My soul is a lacuna
An empty void
Filled with nothingness

It's hallow and dark
The cold walls
Covered in cobwebs and mildew

And I search
Far and wide
To find the missing piece

The missing piece
That will fill my lacuna
And make me complete again

As the wind blows, and as the hands get colder
I will forever look for you, even when I am older.

In the cold weather, our hearts interlink
Even when you aren't here, I still feel you near.

Harsh Cold Winter

It’s a harsh cold winter
You’re gone and I’m so bitter
I sat front-row seat
As I watched our love wither

Heart gouged by the splinters
You’ve silenced your ringer
And my feelings for you
Oh, they still linger…

It’s a harsh cold winter
Choked sobs and silent whimpers
Sparks of love burned out
Leaving ashes and cinder

Sleepless nights
Bottles of whiskey
Skipped meals
My love, do you miss me?

It’s a harsh cold winter
I’ve always been an overthinker
Should I move on? Or reach out?
letting my healing progress hinder

Week old sheets that smell of you
Tears as wide as the ocean
People come and go
But all I ever wanted was your devotion

The Hallowe’en decor
has been put away for another year.
Christmas lights line each house and door,
illuminating every single tear.
The day of the dead has passed
but next holiday is one more for me,
since I’ve got the ghost of Christmas last
following me eternally.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

The wind’s slapping at my face
and there’s a chill biting at my bones,
and in every snowflake; a feeling laced
“in our own arms we die”; all alone.
My mother was the spring,
just like it; she couldn’t stay very long.
The breath of fresh air she would bring
until her own breath wasn’t very strong.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

No you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep regret out of a locked door.
It has been that way for centuries
and it’ll be that way for centuries more.

I recall the day I first saw you, amid the frigid depths of winter, as I sought even a trace of warmth from the sun. My gaze found that warmth in you. When you drew near, you stunned me, clasping my cold hands in yours, imbuing them with warmth. I remember, too, the day I waited in that same chill for one final glimpse of you—only to be left, forsaken, my hands still cold, yearning for the warmth you once brought.