Like a cold, stiff wind of winter,
The memory rips through me,
Hollow, and reaching through and around my bones,
With a distant power that leaves me a mere shadow under its claws,
Even in the warmth of summer
I remember the feel of its icy hands upon my shoulders.
It is as a ghost,
An entity that had so much energy in life that it left its spirit behind,
It haunts me,
It haunts my nights,
It haunts the halls and the cracks of this place,
It dwells in that coffee shop down the street,
But most painful of all,
What really gives it its power,
The one lock I can never undo,
Is that it haunts my very person,
In all I do,
Though I crumble in its presence,
It entangles its fingers into my hair,
And into my mind,
But you refuse to leave,
Or I refuse to let you go.