Winter

The harsh wind doth blow,

Sending icy memories into the head's of all,

Cars pass me by staring,

As I slowly walk home.

Am I some freak show,

As I slowly stroll down the sidewalk carrying

My books loosely at my side

The skin on my nose turning slightly bluish,

Which seems to be odd against the vampire luminosity

Of the parts of my skin that is covered.

I know these people are not staring at my beauty

Althought it is there,

Hidden under the layers of clothing.

Awaiting me home soon

A nice cup of hot chocolate,

No coffee for me,

Though vendors ask me if I want any,

They have specialized brews,

The sweetest in town.

I pass them by casually,

I don't want any,

It is always bitter tasting to me,

What my sister calls

A sign of schizophrenia

Along with other things.

The wind continues to blow,

Bringing with it tiny snowflakes that seem

To remind us of grudges, arguments,

And other things that we shouldn't be thinking of.

Traces of the past that seem to haunt us,

As we blindly walk through the present,

Hoping that things can be resolved,

Pushing forth

Into the future.