9th June

by Xanthe   Jun 22, 2012


I miss the winter

and for the first time
tonight, I slept.
No dreams of you
undressed my night
for me - I was alone.

Places I used to
find you (I noticed)
have vanished. In
their wake, I cried
- for the first time -

with tears I found 'neath
my Autumn blanket;
tears I found in my cup
this morning, and tears

I drew from yesterday's well...

~

Still, I felt nothing but
that feeling I felt when
winter left.

Because for the first time
tonight, I admit
I've been wishing to have
you by my side again.

~

This morning,

I looked in the mirror
to see my scars are fading.

This morning,

I looked inside my cup
(only) to realise I don't like coffee
anymore...

06/22/12

Clearly not my best. But I tried writing.

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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by Lioness

    Xanthe, the emotions in this poem I felt reading each word. I love winter, I do but there's this certain sadness that accompanies winter that is breathable in the air.

    Now what I can gather from this poem is that someone you cherished is not with you anymore. I assume you are talking about your friend that passed away (I am sorry for this), though throughout the poem you don't really talk about death itself so I think a lot of people would be able to relate to this poem, even if they don't know someone close to them who has passed away, if they've experienced any loss, even if it's a loss of love they would be able to relate. I love that about this piece.

    An awesome write Xanthe but of course the sadness within breaks my heart.

    x

  • 11 years ago

    by Hannah Lizette

    June 9th obviously changed your life, I'm unsure of what it is, but I do assume that you have lost someone very dear to you. I'm very sorry for your loss.

    "I miss the winter"
    ^I love that you put "the" instead of I love winter, it has so much more meaning behind it. Exactly what Jenni said... you aren't talking about just one winter, but a specific winter that you hold dear to your heart.

    "and for the first time
    tonight, I slept.
    No dreams of you
    undressed my night
    for me - I was alone."

    ^
    The "No dreams of you undressed my night" is amazing. I feel sadness though because you are alone. :( It's kind of bittersweet, being able to sleep peacefully with no dreams, yet you are alone.

    Your metaphors are amazing, as always. I don't think you could ever write a bad piece.

    I hope your heart begins to heal... it will be a long process but eventually it will be easier to deal. It will never be normal again, however you will be able to cherish the memories instead of dwelling on them. They will make you smile instead of cry.

    All of us Kite Runners miss you and you can come home anytime! :)

    • 11 years ago

      by Xanthe

      Thank you :)

  • 11 years ago

    by Jenni

    9th June
    ^ You know, I rarely to never find dates in poems because quite a few poems are fictious while others do not refer to a specific date, but when I do see one appear I know that it has a huge effect on the writer and I know this one does for you. I think that it emphasizes how real it is, which makes your words more captivating as your feelings base on a real event.

    I miss the winter
    ^ Noura said "the" wasn't necessary here and that is probably grammatically right, while I understand why you put it. You're refering to something/someone specific, not just any winter, but THE winter, which has an important meaning to you.

    To me this write actually is one of your best, you don't only manage to fascinate me with your words, but some of them hit me, like I read it and then when I read specific parts it seems as if my heart gets squished for a moment, but I like that.

    Beautiful poem.

    Edit: Oops just saw now that you had explained the "the" yourself, sorry

  • 11 years ago

    by nouriguess

    Whatever. Whatever, whatever! Damn grammar, I love itttt. And don't listen to me. I suckkk. Hehe. :P

  • 11 years ago

    by Karla

    It can't be your best but it is always a pleasure to read your poems.