April Snows

The cold wind blows spring away like a ghost of a dream half remembered in the twilight moment of the morning alarm.
Cold. White. The snow drifts around my walls. My dreams lie frozen inside it. The sky lowers white mourning veils on my soul. Wind howls it's grief. You are gone. You are not here. You never were. You, like summer, a dream that never was. I see all around me relics of you and relics of Summer but neither exists. Only a wish, a hope, a brief breath of miracle that touched me only long enough to stay the knife from my heart. Only long enough to hold my hand and make me try just one more day. To take just one more step. To engage myself in Life just one more day.
Still the cold wind blows the white sorrow across my rooftops. Still my heart weeps for dreams that can never be. Deep inside me a pilot light flickers. Ready to burst into futile flame for a heat that has no place to light, no home to warm. The wind laughs. It screams. It beats upon my walls like the bullies of yesteryear, mocking my sorrow and pain. The trees outside echo my anguish, groaning and swaying against the brutal air. Speared by the sharp needles of ice as is my heart with every step I take, every moment I wake.
Everything I see is colored by a moment with you that can never be.
Everything I think is shaped by a conversation with you that never was.
Everything I am is founded on a life with you that is not.
Still I hold my breath, waiting for the miracle of spring. What else can I do? I love you. I hate love. I love. I hate. I hate to love.