Hollow Chill

by on

I wallow in the paraphrases and the ick of December. Wintery trees remind me of childhood and what use to be. Today the misery and solitude linger in the brisk air. I no longer grasp and hold onto affection. I took a walk and could see my reflection in the mangled trees. Branches scattered like my frozen thoughts. I stand still as depression settles deeper. No one wants to stand from my perspective. I despise the winter and hollow chill. No one cares. I use to crave to feel. I stare into the paragraphs and emptiness flows. No one cares. I don’t ask why I am alive. I ask when will you take me out of my misery?

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  2. This makes me want to pick the person up and hug them, cradle them close. I picture a person walking down a snowy sidewalk, hands deep in pockets, head down, shoulders hunched. Deep in loneliness and sadness. Longing for more. Half-heartedly kicking a clump of snow, realizing they still hate it even after all these years. The grip of winter settling in. Pausing. Looking up into the leafless trees which line the road. Wanting someone to come and touch their soul. And that…. makes me want to reach out and pull them in. To love and care.

    All that to say: Beautiful. Grey-blue and beautiful. I love it when you write like this style. Marvelous work, Braeden. Truly.

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