Feel the temperature dropping to nil,
Frost is forming on the window sill,
Eyes sift gently from left to right,
In harmony with a pendulum tonight.
Cold hands grasp for a touch of heat,
As the rocking chair gently creaks.
The lighter touches the table quietly,
And the ashtray makes a lone creak.
The smoke makes a path to fresh air,
A trembling hand taps on the chair.
Finally at peace after many years,
A final hurdle that had to be cleared.
Hollow eyes reveal a tortured soul,
Too weathered to withstand the cold,
And the deathly soft cracked skin,
Will not survive beyond the morning.
A bottle rests next to a glass of ice,
Beautifully accented by moonlight,
Showing off that it is nearly dry,
To match the lone silhouette inside.
Open windows whisper a tragedy,
As all of the animals outside plead,
For a warm and safe place to sleep,
Since their creator knows no mercy.
The telephone hasn’t rang in a year,
Left alone presumably to die here.
Mirrors reflect light from the sky,
Illuminating the pen explaining why,
Everything abruptly ends this way,
When there is nothing left to say.
A neatly folded heartfelt goodbye,
Nobody cared enough to see inside,
Sealed and stamped with a lone tear,
The only emotion felt in many years.
A beating heart pulses to the rain,
Overcompensating for immense pain,
At every one of the pressure points,
As the cold chill stiffens the joints.
The doors have all been barred shut,
Contact with the world long ago cut,
All clear within a fifty acre radius,
Not important enough to be missed.
The mind races a million directions,
They all lead back to the reflection,
Of a fireplace glowing in the glass,
Awaiting the fluid and the match.
A grey sky paints the inside walls,
And a lone shadow seven feet tall,
Takes a final drag of the cigarette,
And one final sip of the accelerant.