Snow in April

Snowing in April, a Monday night / Tuesday mourning,

slow, wet flakes which don’t stick

and you, a slice of imagination but now you’re real,

like the fucking eight month memories.

Pain falls like the snow, choices I don’t want making

Appear in trowelled out pathways.

Once more, one more time to see if the numbness

will fade to show patterns of feelings and hurt again.

I wish the snow had never started,

the white, disintegrating flakes which confuse my vision

like you have done since September,

melting my ice-queen hardened shell with your heat.

And now I freeze again, your baby-blue smile

has gone, the eight month memories have

died and gone with them. You have changed,

changing me with you for this last time.

Disappeared, so away. Only the snow still falls,

not sticking, the ground a mess of slush and wet

until tomorrow, when a new sun will rise.

But there is no warmth in April, only snow.