Cold

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Sometimes that damn cold knocks you out.

The wind blows you over

And the hail pounds against your head.

The dampness then sets in

Just as you think you’re inside,

Safe and dry.

It’s then you realize you won’t win

Because in settles the weight

Which fills your head with remorse.

Out blows the hot air

Which barely keeps you warm.

The bags under your eyes form

And the chapped skin grows

Around your lips and nose.

All from one too many  sleepless nights

And an infatuation with an intoxication

That once made you feel whole.

Maybe this is just a passing flu.

Maybe it’s the weight of all these years.

Maybe it’s the stress

Which you failed to release with tears.

But, damn, this cold is hard pressed

To not let you overcome…

When once upon a time,

You thought you had already won.

 

–Written by Sandy Heights

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