If the souring of my soul was
not forced by putrid airs, I would
greet the grimmest days with generosity.
But I am held here in this dormancy,
and I would not warm the coldest creatures.
For my heart’s hearth is encompassed
and enclosed within these wretched walls,
No visitors vainly seek my sentiments, only vanishments.
Of my arms exposed fall these ashen memories,
of all that was loved and never requited.
In these trials torments call out names
of loved ones left in anguish and their eyes,
ever eroding my mind in terror of trembling wakes.
With hands harbouring histories of a vacant
vagrant, and all imminency lost to the winds of sorrow.
This poem can be read on poetry.com- http://poetry.com/poems/350359