Life without love is a cold room
Offering meager emotional shelter,
Affording no warmth to heal the
Damaged heart or weary soul.

Within the gelid chamber,
Chilled deep within,
My breath billows an icy cloud.
Four stark, bone-white walls,
Reflect life’s regrets and sorrows,
One’s promises left unfulfilled.
A hearth of smoke-black bricks,
Void of passion’s crackling flames
Reminds of amorous days,
Pleasurable yet long past.
Without love, glowing embers
Self-extinguish to brittle ash.

Chilling winds and freezing rain
Pummel against small pained windows.
Made translucent by hard frost,
Frozen passions of lost loves,
Veiled light blurs vision and thought,
Obscuring possibilities, avoidances,
And the most visceral of fears,
Another laceration of the heart.

A thin trickle of rain,
Crystal and tear-like
Traces inside the frozen pane,
Quietly freezing on the sill.
No longer an emotional safe harbour,
My cold, loveless room
Has been infiltrated
By apprehensions made liquid
From the outside world.

A single door, a portal to enter or egress,
Silently awaits for decision or delay
With a turn of bolt to lock it fast
Or in impulse, thrust it open and escape.

Hesitant, I place my palm against its
Sturdy frame. A smarting cold bites back.
To stay is self-imposed purgatory.
To leave, risks new pain seeking
Love in another, distant life.

Renouncing my cold room within
I embrace the uncertainty without.
Resolute, a wind-blown rain stings my face.
To my loveless past, I cannot return
Or chance a backward fleeting glance.

Written in retrospect after leaving Atlantic Canada and living in Virginia.

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