Cold

Fuzzy memories embrace me

Like an old pair of flannel pajama pants that I hate to wear anymore.

But on the days when the chill of fall, and the snap of twigs underfoot

Threaten to break me under the weight of regret

I still grasp, and search for them.

Threadbare, holes in the crotch, and the full left seam ripped out

It disgusts me that I still find comfort in them

But as they slide on over bare knobby knees, and goosepimpled thigh

They calm the caucophony of my mind.

Thoughts of my old love warm me.

Like a cozy cup of cocoa, that bores me with every passing sip.

But on the lonely evenings, in front of a movie in my flannels

As the pangs of lonliness, and dread of another winter spent alone

Puts tension on my shoulders like an overtuned guitar, threatning to shatter the neck

I still shuffle, dim eyed, and teeth chattering

To the stove to warm the kettle,

And even though the milk is sour, and the water flat

I sip between grimaces,

as liquid heat cuts through the chill of my core.

Cogitations of my youth overwhelm me

Like a roaring conflaguration that threatens to lick the heavens

But given that, lately, my deepest thought is a constant stream of what if's

And a dull headhche

Perhaps evaporating my glacial armor to expose the iceburned soul

Can help me shed the weight of my polar shell, and motivate me to find new lands

I love my tundra citadel, cast from failure and regret.

So I ignore that I have built so many fires from these memories

That good firewood is a good months hike there, and back.

So I hike, and build a pyre upon the permafrost

Hoping against all evidence, that this fire, this time,

Will do the trick.

But on a clear, black, cold night. Pinpricks of light dot the inky shroud

I realize I am as broken as the sticks on the ground I intend to set ablaze.

"Why not set myself ablaze?"

I mutter as I strke match, and light the fire.

Shuffle to the stove to put on the hot cocoa

And go searching, again for those horrible flannel pajamas.