I looked outside, the sun is shining where it hasn't for days.
I looked inside, it's been caliginous for months.

The smoke over my tea seems foreign,
My gazes are empty,
My flesh feels hardened.

My thoughts don't haunt me anymore,
we live together, a familiar routine.

It's an odd place to be in,
when you're acquiescent for Departure,
but wary of the destination.

Death will grace us all in a given day,
how to act as a catalyst,
I wondered,
simply, keep your door inviting.

As I sat with a blizzard inside,
a deep sunken calm emerged within.

I asked, "who is it?"
"your solace", it answered.

I asked again, confused, "who is it?"
"your tranquil", it answered.

I asked once again, unsure, "who is it?"
"your Departure", it answered. I smiled.

"What kept you so long?", I asked,
"you have. May I stay?", it asked me.

"You've never left. A perpetual guest is always welcome." I answered.

The sound of violins overcame me,
an odd, fitting melody.

Everything is just...numb
Everything was so cold
All I wanted was to fix the splinter
But I can't hear what I've been told
The world had enter winter
I remember it well
The world fell
Into a blizzard
And I chose to be inside
Even though I know it is dumb
Its better than the fake warmth outside
The world's blizzard

Check in impatiently
hauling light luggage -
downturned eyes,
bundled fifties,
skull packed with sickly
sugarplum notions

Stiff key-card door and
three hanger closet -
leave your mittens, jacket,
and conscience dangling

Towels
cotton-knit sandpaper
no softer than well-trafficked
threadbare tawny-port carpet and
your hands and feet pretend
not to feel it

nervously,
a bit numbly,
you notice her standing
with glacial stillness
moments away from
the foot of the bed

Two crooked lampshades and
dim headboard lights
close their eyes when
the mattress springs
first compress,
the air tingling
with dustbunny snowflakes

This room is too dark now,
something like snowblind,
but you don't really want to see
do you?

Frostbite when she touches you
and somehow this bed
is more welcoming
than your own

you'll remember her
february fingertips
and hailstone hair,
a sensation of northerly winds
strange how heavy the comforter feels
sprawled across your skin

you envision an ice slab,
see it suffocate
a slow-flowing river,
and your breath quickens
if only because your lungs
have been crushed

then, just before hypothermia,
she leaves,
lights off,
wallet lighter,
you stay whiteknuckled, lightheaded,
half-consumed by a snowdrift,
beneath the duvet -
dazed

your tongue sits confused,
having asked for peppermints
and been given ice cubes instead

and when you finally rise,
and thaw your limbs
and try not the slip
on the black ice
she always leaves
by the door,

Try to forget
you paid
hourly rates
and shed your clothes
that you might find warmpth
in a blizzard