Harsh winds began to rattle the windows
and the trees were stripped of their beauty
and she mourned the final moments
of autumn light as it became lost
to charcoal skies.
She shivered as the chill of winter
settled under her skin.
It brought with it a heaviness,
as if each drop of rain that fell
landed inside her hollow bones
and left her waterlogged; drowning
beneath its bitter sadness.
She longed to stay above the darkness
that rose inside her chest,
but each day she grew colder
and apathy wrapped around her until
she surrendered to the weight of it.
“Just for a while I’ll stay here
in this bleak comfort,” she told herself.
“Just until the wind no longer howls
through my soul and the sky
lifts its sorrow from my eyes.”
But it has been winter for so long now
that she fears she has become it, and
her grief-soaked heart lies in silent hope
that one day someone will pull her
from the water and gently wring
the sadness from her bones.