— a poem of potpourris.
Safe
What I no longer am
I long for your footsteps on winter’s end;
your pace imprinted all the way to my entrance.
You land three knocks on the sill, peek inside,
and let yourself in through the opening.
You crept soundly through the lonely halls
and eventually, reaching my chamber.
You found me all curled up beneath the sheets;
quivering, uncontrollably shivering.
My head tucked far under, eyes wide shut, picturing
both your arms encircling me from behind
your familiarity radiates, warmth pulsates all around
And eventually, they did just that.
At one moment, I’ll look to your side
and see you in complete tranquillity.
You’ll greet me with your summery smile and
your faithful whisper of ‘I love you.’
Instead, all I get
is the brutal cold of the night,
oblivious to the world; so far detached
pitch-black void fills the empty bed around me;
lurking to consume
because you’re there;
six-feet underground.
It all feels like yesterday
but I know they’re far from real.
But when I close my eyes,
I see only you and nothing else.
