another cusp point. the vernal equinox passed and it's bringing in languid sadness into the air, echoing the deaden silence of the deaths of the present winter. as the snow start to melt away, the little memoirs of the cold, hasten and dark days blurring into nights come out to the sunlight.
gloves. hats. lost things.
under glistening melting puddle, once priced possessions now lie naked without owners, neglected, alone and dead, perhaps dreaming of their long lost other halves. where would those gloves all go? did they ever dreamed of being found and to be a pair again before they were discarded to garbage?
scattered fag butts.
cough drop wrappers.
dog poos left in shame.
the sun peeks through the heavy clouds.
but people continue to walk, eyes looking down to the ground.
though there is no ice to trip over anymore.
the melting sun also melts the ice i put on the cracks of myself.
i filled those in with indifference, faked confidence and desperate hope for approvals.
and today, they all melt, leaving me all cracked and broken.
the end of winter is passing and now i must die.
ah i pause the afternoon,
filled with melancholia and regrets,
fermata pregnant with sadness.