Overrated

Spring:
The moment of
Beauty opening,
Life budding,
And awakening.
Never marred,
By the knowledge
Winter’s cold
Had once
Slowly killed it;
But it’s overrated.

Ice:
Falling,
From bare trees.
Shadowing the cold,
Bitter,
Void, death;
I am winter.

Winter:
The eerie,
Hallowed life.
Empty of pigments,
As I walk,
Amongst the bright colors
Of rose red love,
Sun orange joy,
Earthly green serenity.
I am a black void
In the technicolored world.

Spring’s bitter enemy:
I am caught inside,
This clouded mask,
That dulls
Sunlight,
And keeps you
Far out of reach.

Pains kept fresh:
In a hard,
Treacherous,
Ice heart.
Long collecting wounds
Rip and tear again,
As Summer comes,
Basked in blazing heat,
And deep wonder,
Wrapped up
In his warm emotion.

Smiling:
Like the heavens are his,
And he is free.
To love and laugh,
To move on.
He looks to me,
His chilled Winter,

Eyes searching through me:
Mocking and betraying,
What was once embedded
Deep within my soul.
Speaking,
The echoing words:
“You were once
Mine,
And being loved.”
Damned Tourniquet
Of my last breath.

His lips met mine once more:
Warm,
Gentle,
Against my
Abandonment.
Before I walked
Away from you,
For eternity.

I am now Winter:
Cold,
Betrayed,
Left alone,
To my self destruction.
No longer,
Can I be
His beautiful,
Unfaltering,
Enrapturing
Spring.

For that love,
That comfort,
Was corrupted.
And our love
Will never be
Privileged, only
Overrated.