A Jaded Cut

From within the masking shadows wrought by your light my jaded cuts are revealed.

My tired eyes turn from you in the hopes to rest upon the dusty floor.

They only meet a cold and clinging mist, sheilding my feet and the floor from my sight.

I fear any moment I could slip from where I stand and fall.

Fall for an eternity with nothing to cling to, only the cold, damp mist clinging to me.

The hold it keeps on me was once soothing. like the womb of May.

Now its emptiness is like the heart of winter in my breast.