December’s Warmth

Your words have dried up
You give infinite answers
it’s like you have no soul in you
you can’t sustain your breath for long
it’s like you’re holding onto a crumbling stick,
cautiously
the same way one would be reticent
in spite of a brimming tension

Your questions remain unanswered
It’s like you’re walking in a mist
or perhaps you are the mist itself
You have blood stains in your cough
It’s like this might be your last Christmas
you miss the days of old
and the gone era
you still brim with confidence
amid the tiresome rounds you make daily

You have been asked to speak louder,
be bold and articulate your sentences
it’s like a rebirth or a renaissance
learning how to take steps all over again
you have dreams, lost letters and broken hearts
it’s like you take a sojourn in people’s minds-eye

You reflect on the past
And continue to walk with fervent hope
It’s like your future is already written in the stars
So you’ll forever take refuge in your dreams
and carry on like never before

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