A guest contribution by Natalia Armenia.
As I reach my morning hand
to the other side of bed
I realize only then
that winter is making His way.
The gloomy stinging breeze
that dares to disturb the peace
makes this place only His,
the owner, the chief,
and for the next few weeks
He will be my lonely king.
Brushed by the pen of cold,
my skin turns pale
as if I’d just seen a ghost,
but here we meet again
under one more November rain,
you want to turn things into pain.
When you are here,
that means I’m not,
or in truth,
I’m here more than ever.
Trapped inside the walls of His house,
winter does not want to set me free.
Wrapped inside the blanket of self-doubt,
sometimes my face remembers to breathe
and sees the light for the first time in years.
Is the real world still out there?
Am I still inside this corpse?
Sometimes it’s not even cold outside
but it’s frozen in your heart.
You forget what heat feels like
you’ll sleep it off until it’s done.
Gone
As the drunkard at the local
bar dying to die some more
I’m briefly out of the world
My solitary soul is
dismayed when you choose
to see hope in the morning
draught
Mourn
As a sign not to give up
under the winter sun
that’s still not warm enough nor bright enough
for me to
Moan
to let you know
that the world still spins
even if you are not in it
Numbness can be seen
in the paleness of your walls and
the wearying of your skin and
the quick temper of your soul
When was the last time
you did something just for fun?
How can other creatures still
pant when the hint of snow
is all it takes for me to be
drawn
And to be nailed down to bed I pray to my angels
and my demons
with no faith
for yet another day
and for a second fur
Nature is taking a break
the earth has gone to sleep
and so have I
until I’m reminded of the outer
doors with the first songs of spring.
Natalia Armenia is a French-Peruvian writer based in Paris. Her work has appeared in French and Latin American magazines. She holds two BA in literature and languages (Montpellier - Barcelona) and a MFA in literature and creative writing (Montpellier - Cape Town). She is currently writing a travel book that blends fiction, prose and non-fiction. She founded LePhareCollectif, a writer's collective based in Paris, where she teaches writing workshops in three languages.
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