Warm Cosy Days

Warm cosy days,

happy innocent childhood 

long gone,

Now all I am, is a name,

a sad sound

occasionally called out in pain,

despair and grief.

I stand here,

staring at the ghost of my yesterday's

smiling and waving ,

There the words seem to mean 

exactly

what they were meant to mean.

But here, 

I nod at the voice of familiar strangers,

no longer trying to reason,

nor to understand,

But to give in,

to play along with 

the definitions they choose.

Here,

I'm dying a death

that no one could see,

Here,

I am dying one,

no one could feel.

There is spring outside,

Plenty of sunlight,

But there is winter inside,

a quiet grave, waiting.

Words, their warmth,

 lost in the move.

Love left freezing,

 hope all violet and cold.

Death was already here,

waiting around, merrily,

for the spring to finally end,

for the leaves to finally fall,

oustide.