It’s very cold today.
I hug my coat against the fray
Of wind that’s like a pack of wolves
Or maybe, just one great whole
Who needs no others formed as he
To cause this world some misery.
The something made from nothing is that what we call loneliness
And should it seem impossible, then please allow me then digress
From the acceptable. I don’t mind. I don’t care.
That I should have the gall to dare
To be this way.
But it’s OK.
You could be the furthest grown
And then we would not be alone.
But I know. I know. Don’t speak.
I don’t know who you are, I think,
And likely it’s the same for you.
But could you feel this coldness, too?
To stand the fringe of dark and hurt
That hides in dust and stains on shirts
And grins from empty glass, and glares
From empty minds ‘fore quiet stares?
Nothing, nothing in the world makes me more afraid than them.
They keep me by myself. So pull the hem
Of my coat, useless ‘gainst all kinds of cold,
And wander on till I grow old.