January for December, written 1/29/15

January for December

The snow, once white, turns grey, as landscapes die beneath the cold,
The piercing wind destroys each fire of hope, its whistle scolds
That flame, for daring defy the monochromatic grey
Decaying into black as sunlight is drained from the day.

The Sun, she visits less each day, though now we need her more,
Scarce daring show her face without a veil of cloud decor.
The Moon, her nocturne lullaby starts earlier each day,
And bedsheets beckon us, perchance to dream our lives away.

As each day whithers faster into night, it may yet seem
That soon it will be naught but dark, as darkness now does teem.
Yet though this ominous shadow doth lurk, i say this, please, remember:
Though both are cold, don't mistake January for December.

For this is but the start, it isn't yet to be the end.
Time cycles, and your heart soon warm apologies shall mend.
The spring will birth new colours, rains shall wash the grey away,
And actual sunlight at last will beg of you to stay.

Sins, Written 1/15/15

Your skin as white as snow betrays the coldness in your heart,
Your lips, crimson, as if they'd taste the blood spilled on your part
Your coerced smile, so beautiful, but only for display,
Left to return to distaste as the camera fades away.

I know not how the warning signs escaped my watchful eye,
Selective though it was; too quick distracted by your sigh.
Yet though my ear heard more direct that you would leave in pain,
I drove you through my heart, knowing full well you'd not remain.

After a while i'd fooled myself, believing you would stay,
Thinking my care would somehow wash your fear and sin away.
I should have known unholiness would not be kept at bay,
and now I reap its ruinous rewards in my dismay.

I plunged you into my heart, and the devil tore you out,
and as you ran, my pulsing blood left too, no more devout,
but not to safety, instead in his arms you lay alone.
Ever for your sins, Emptiness shall force you to atone.