The soft whisper of silence wraps itself around me.
A lonely calling from the cold trees.
The white snow, crisp through dark windows,
reminds me of happy mornings.
Frost has settled outside, and in my chest.
I shiver in it's embrace.
The last left to me.
My face is mirrored in the glass.
I have dealt with my woes -
only the broken pieces remain to fix
the bitter draught is drank.
I take a lasting drag of rum and mint,
mixed to keep the chill without and in.
It dulls the demon lurking -
somewhere behind a sardonic smile.
If you were to see me now - I am smiles,
small talk and polite chit chat.
A graceful nod or the tipping of a hat.
All an act.
We give our lovers, sisters, brothers -
other men, such power.
They unthinking change in us
what we change through thinking.
Thinking too much.
The sparrow has no such trouble.
Food and fight and flight
are all it needs.
Save a mate.
We are perhaps not so diferent.
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