December is
cold coffee on my tongue,
a bittersweet memory
that never lingers long,
the weight of
my wishes
gathered beneath
a silver-spun tree,
and the depths of
sweet sorrow
that will never set me free;
December holds my heart
in its glacial grasp,
and like a flower of
winter's night,
I hope I will last.
Fragments
By JSextonWrites
Poetry and fragments of my mind. Dealing with heartache, betrayal, sorrow, and hope. Originally posted on Ins... More