I was present in this place but my body was not.
The familiarity saddened me to the core.
There was a gaping hole in my gut as I realised it was winter now.
The air was stale. It was more contained, as was the person in it.
Almost as if there was a double bolt lock on every means of escape, there was no exiting this place.
Along with this darker season also came the darker feelings.
The room within this place was so dull it was difficult to differentiate objects. It became impossibly older.
There was an overall grey shadow around my entire sphere.
Although within this shadow was warmth and protection.
The protection was from the bewildered, crisp breeze that was beyond this place, the place that was once my home.
Feelings of fragility and vulnerability were within this home now.
Me, a minuscule being, hiding from the roaring winds outside the windows.
The powerful breeze sounded as if it was aiming to destruct my safe surrounding.
The only heat within was an artificial heat.
The window was being mercilessly beaten with forceful, constant raindrops.
The room felt empty and I felt empty also.

When would there be life again?
When would it be Spring?

You ask if you can have the rest of my water
I turn to pull my lazy jumper over my left shoulder and leave it to you
You drink like you have been deprived for endless nights
As you accidentally slurp, I am aware that my judgmental stare is unnecessary
But it deepens to be sure to burn through you
How could you not notice?
Maybe I am the thirsty one

At endless points our skin met
Both fighting against each other in the contrasting texture, tone and experiences
We both felt and dealt with different ground until we fell here
From that moment on
Our energy caved and we were combined as if the water met the sky in one never ending curve of beauty

The polyester cardigan grows thin
As I nervously tug at its tiring seam
The silence does not dare to lessen
And I dare not to break the stream
That fills this exhausted space
We so ashamedly know

Please, just turn on the radio
To drown out my thoughts
Of Yours.

I have already decided it will be another six months
And Guilt has already welcomed himself
Tearing through the bones
Pulsing.
Agony, pain.

Take him away.
This Guilt
is Yours.

I dread the day that I will see the water fall from your eyes,
the same squinted hazel as mine,
Your shoulders will give in and Collapse,
Your chest it will shake, like my old rattler,
as we attempt not to relapse.

But I truly dread the following day,
as I will hear that radio play.

You sit and swig one, two, three
because you know he will not be home

You take a drag one, two, three
because he hates it when you smoke

You wait until it is dark, dark, dark
to walk far away from home

You like him but you also like him and him
just in case one lets you down

And when the light shines through the curtain,
onto his worn out chest, you turn to the dark shadow
to pick up the ashtray and the shattered glass

You lift the hood above your head and close your eyes so still
because you know he will be back and you will feel fulfilled.