The outer cold and inner coldness
coexist. The chimney is charring
wood while it emits the smoke
of my misery.
I have bleed. My mind has been
twisted & knocked and all the
memories have been erased.
Memories of all the people
who once hugged me is lost
Though I write this note,

there is no reason.

JG

I could murder a good meal,
but meat and two veg remind
me of shared times, shared places,
before you were forced to leave
by a sharper edge, a keener need.
Buffeted by your absence, cuffed
round the head by your disappearance.
Life looks askance at this cold grate
where once flames met one another.

PB