the morning of blue

sadness pours through the air as the days coalesce, a thick grey dusk
hovering above the skeletal trees, this winter lays too calm and still for me

to not think about you, to not get lost in this emptiness. strange it is,
the sensation of fading, body submissive to starvation, becoming smaller
because i cannot stand to feel the weight of the present. i am imprisoned

in this shell of a human being, the person i have become has no soul anymore,
it died with the numbers, it left when you did.

i don't want to hear this heartbeat, as i drink my tea in burleigh china
i am the only one awake, watching an azure blue transcending onto the furniture.

wondering what the sound of your breaths are like, how things would be if you still wanted me. strange it is, the realization of how sad things can be the most beautiful, the most profound.

winter winds whisper to me that perhaps things inside will never get fixed, as they collide with the window softly. i am not sure either, everything inside feels too hurt.