The shades of the winter blues
have nothing to do with colors or hues.
It deals with healing in reverse
and feeling every single curse
of the cold weather.
Thoughts are so much heavier
than a feather now
and I’m constantly wondering how
the season change
got into my brain so easily.
Icy blood controls the flood
of frothy, frosty films
grazing my eyes
but every painful picture
has such forceful tries
that I can’t even try to deny
them from making my head
a pill-controlled place.
Bells are jingling while
the trees’ branches are mingling
with each other,
and it makes me wonder
why I can’t find another
who wants to intertwine branches.
Every thought pushes me deeper into the snow,
and with every launch the shorter is my throw,
and with all the situations, the more I seem to know…
but I can’t give up so my body I will tow.
Through and through
until my hands are blue.
Like I said,
seasonal sadness
doesn’t deal with colors.
It’s lacking others,
mistrusting mothers.
Fathers lacked and
tired brothers.
I am tired.
The tired bells
cannot
toll any
longer.
Help me crawl to the other side of this season,
just let me come out
Stronger.