May

You left me when it was cold.
I walked the icey plank, of my mind
to my job, every day frozen
every day unhappy in my skin
a warmth only achieved in some liquid malice, then
a drunken remembrance of you- hot to the touch, I
melted into a dreamless state each night.

I bare my skin to the changing winds of winter
to spring like today, growing callous
from natures bite, a toughed lump of hard days
grown onto me, as I am, a beast of war
ready to attack, but endlessly broken in my spirits
having only seen deaths.

You'll come back to me in ten days now, a needle
ready to inject me back into reality, awaken me
to you, and to summer, another inconsistent
jolt of warmth, I do not know if I can take.