The day it came was cold and wet.
A winter’s rain fell hard on frozen ground
covered in half thawed ice and memory.
Metered thuds of blade on ice
wedged open gaps that let – what was – seep up.
I had you once and then had you not;
and, although I can tell when,
I never knew why you left my sight.
This is how obsession starts:
a blade cuts open a frozen shell
letting light upon a darkness that lay
hidden under years of neglected dreams.
A haunting stab of what could have been –
but what surely is not – presses into my heart
and leaves burning regret imprinted
in the ice storm.