tonight, shivering underneath the moon.

the darkness will not have you.

it’s so cold where i am.

winter rushes in sluggishly, hungrily.

the weather sinks its rotten molars down, harsh and familiar.

long winters silence and isolate, cradling all of summer’s agony in its freezing grip. hours blur. days melt away slowly. everything under the surface clings to the hum of our blood.

death struggled, but life won. how do we stay warm?

i bide my time wandering aimlessly in the empty dark. a desire for getting lost intersects with a loathing of being found.

my footprints stain the path from the forest lines to the edge of the lake and back again. no one will let me get any closer. not anymore.

in the gaps of the night i question: if i cannot believe in someone so minuscule and untouched (me), then how am i expected to believe in someone bigger?

my frame does not hold enough hope. / i wasn’t meant to worship a father, i’m trying hard to have a companion. / one who will drain out all the sickness in me. / one who will search for me when i’ve lost to myself out in the cold.

the moon burns blue bruises on my skin. something watches unsettled from the trees, it knows who i am. biting back words, i refuse to call out to her: the believer in the presence of a ghost. but i don’t want her to leave because being on my own will be worse.

i know there’s a weight and it’s depending on me. i’m a wound to my god as well.

i’ve survived so many before. again and again and again.

yet the perpetual cycle of endless winter sunday nights persists.