Winter's Bark

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                             I've compartmentalized these feelings

                             of nostalgic reminiscence and

                             unfulfilled wishful thinking buried

                             into the seams of a local drimys bark;

                             underneath the tear soaked cambium

                             patience is not as sweet as it is bitter;

                             it blooms through perseverance till

                             all the sweetness is lost to it's fruits and

                              the petals bear the bittersweet dew

                             of a journey that'd never find its end

                             But the compartment safeguarding

                             self loathing emotional wrot- cracks

                             more often than needed, till the

                             diseased epithelial cells infected

                             with self deprecation define the new

                             seasonal produce of a once evergreen

                             proud standing tall being of goodness

                             And more often than not, I keep losing

                             the key to the vault protecting all of

                             my endangered self appreciation,

                             sometimes the code disperses with the

                             words of decay, weighing down to

                             the side of barren desolation of an

                             unhabitable expanse of eroded lands

                              with dry winds of eolion tones rushing

                             aimlessly, carrying tumbleweeds and

                             separated fibres of a dehydrated heart

                             now no longer able to sense thirst

                             after tasting a drop of the bittersweet

                             poison of solitude and the lifeless peace

                             that reverberates into the veins from

                             underneath the aridity of lovelessness

                             and a rupturing despondency.

                             And sometimes the iron locks to

                             my serotonin lockers rust and corrode

                             as the constant crashing crests and the

                             toppling troughs of equal and opposite

                             emotions surge over my so called

                             solemn suffering, testing the waters,

                             the unpredictability of fate against

                             the staggering roots of my trembling soul

                             as it withers away like the winter's bark.

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#blablabla

#rwwc

words: compartment, drimys, bittersweet, against.

images don't belong to me.