by Tatiana Atkinson, UWCM
16th of December, 2022
Whisper a little something into my ear,
Tell me of your dreams and wishes,
I promise to reply,
Or not.
Perhaps cruelty will be my defence,
And a wall to my tenderness,
Perhaps I never wanted to know until you told me
Perhaps I just can’t tell you myself.
Forgive me for not wanting to talk,
Or having the capability,
I can’t control my spoken words
And I fear the burning of bridges
As I fear the flooding of rivers
Let’s leave it unspoken,
A small residue of what once was.
Should the flowers bloom again I would ask them to not,
Spring last year had me hopeful for a warm summer,
Yet the cold still crept in
And winter came early.
