Fuzzy memories embrace me
Like an old pair of flannel pajama pants that I hate to wear anymore.
But on the days when the chill of fall, and the snap of twigs underfoot
Threaten to break me under the weight of regret
I still grasp, and search for them.
Threadbare, holes in the crotch, and the full left seam ripped out
It disgusts me that I still find comfort in them
But as they slide on over bare knobby knees, and goosepimpled thigh
They calm the caucophony of my mind.
Thoughts of my old love warm me.
Like a cozy cup of cocoa, that bores me with every passing sip.
But on the lonely evenings, in front of a movie in my flannels
As the pangs of lonliness, and dread of another winter spent alone
Puts tension on my shoulders like an overtuned guitar, threatning to shatter the neck
I still shuffle, dim eyed, and teeth chattering
To the stove to warm the kettle,
And even though the milk is sour, and the water flat
I sip between grimaces,
as liquid heat cuts through the chill of my core.
Cogitations of my youth overwhelm me
Like a roaring conflaguration that threatens to lick the heavens
But given that, lately, my deepest thought is a constant stream of what if's
And a dull headhche
Perhaps evaporating my glacial armor to expose the iceburned soul
Can help me shed the weight of my polar shell, and motivate me to find new lands
I love my tundra citadel, cast from failure and regret.
So I ignore that I have built so many fires from these memories
That good firewood is a good months hike there, and back.
So I hike, and build a pyre upon the permafrost
Hoping against all evidence, that this fire, this time,
Will do the trick.
But on a clear, black, cold night. Pinpricks of light dot the inky shroud
I realize I am as broken as the sticks on the ground I intend to set ablaze.
"Why not set myself ablaze?"
I mutter as I strke match, and light the fire.
Shuffle to the stove to put on the hot cocoa
And go searching, again for those horrible flannel pajamas.