lingering light,
a morning kiss,
watching the sun illuminate the trees
displaying all its roots in the sky,
twigs, and death,
its outlines,
yet,
it feels like a breath of spring,
its near,
you can feel it in the air,
the cold stays,
but there’s glimpses,
warm moments,
little glimmers,
on the backdrop of icey seasons,
where the light is absent,
its hard to find,
moments where you have to chase after it,
like a hare running from a lion,
sprinting,
panting,
dying, and living,
knowing very well,
that the killer is after you.
Suicide has never stopped chasing Me
I have never stopped running,,
Never not had Tea with Her,
Learning from Her,
trying to make Her not come back.
She mauls Me,
Left bloody at the Alter of Living,