Winter..

I remain,
among embedded echoes,
around suspended voices
sailing through
borderless nights and lightless days..

Memories are stuck,
like figures in a canvas.
lifeless oil paints hanging over them
with their breath held,
midway between
the inhaled and exhaled parts
of a deep ,struggling sigh..

Winter stagnates.
enveloped in a hesitant dullness,
reluctant dust clinging to leafy surfaces
of an adherent helplessness and its shades..

Sadness drips,
alongside the clotted vapours
on the edges of a frozen night,
fall on to the crusted earth,
at irregular intervals,
bearing silent pains..

I walk,
over the dried leaves and grass,
an autumn left behind,
feet make hollow sounds,
resembling the leftovers of you inside me
which lingered when you walked away..