Cold winds blow over a desolate landscape

howling through the hollow places.

Solitary footprints disturb the dust.

 

Frigid, forsaken and blasted world,

where the silence is so loud

it screams its pain into the biting gust.

 

Jagged, jutting bones of failed relationships

and the expectant pause of words unsaid are

a symphony of regret; a chorus of misplaced trust.

 

Cityscapes of misspent chances mingle

with the spider web of broken roads.

A bitter and empty honeycomb.

 

Windows bulge with age and neglect

tattered curtains billow and grasp

for a comfort they have never known

 

No warmth; no healing touch.

No arms to hide in; to chase away the dark.

A raw and vacuous home.