Dead of Winter

In my vanity,

Sometimes,

I forget that you're dead

And lost to the world

​

Like the blue, sunlit

Mornings in the winter

Before the overcast sets in,

Greying the world once more

​

Arriving at the meridian of the day,

When it inevitably remembers,

With a chilly shudder,

The current season

​

That's me,

Forgetting myself,

Realizing it is once again time,

To don my cloak of grief

​

Forever eager for springtime,

Impatient to exchange,

The daily darkened sky,

For the occasional rainy day

​

If such a thing exists,

As if grief were cyclical,

Packaged together neatly,

In a calendar-shaped box