"What's wrong?"
The voice whispered

"What's not?"
I whispered back
in a drunken state of remorse.

"Is it your fault?"
The voice slipped through the darkness
like breath slips through the harsh cold.

"Yes. All of it."
A nod was all I had left to give.
A nod
and then a bang
against the wall
leaving my skull a little sore.

"Tell me something. Do you blame the trees for losing their leaves? Would you say it is the moons fault she runs from the sun? Is it the poor clouds fault they sometimes need to let go and pour out all that they've been storing inside?"

"You cannot blame the seasons for changing,"
I huffed in frustration.

"And you, my dear, change as swiftly as the seasons."


*s.mndi