The wind whistles through the open window
Only shadows wallow with me in this misery.
One candle burns throughout the night.
It creates the hope that I need to go on.
I clutch the cloth that encases my warmth
It is all so cold, too cold.
The floor seems to mock me with its freezing touch.
I lust for more, but there isn't anything left.
I feel so empty.
My stomach stopped its arguments long ago,
It has realized -as I have- that there is no use.
I do not remember what it was to feel satisfied.
And this thing called "love" is only delusion.
My mind sometimes wanders back to a face,
But that face is no more.
She faded with the hope, with the satisfied feeling…
Just as my consciousness slowly fades now.
I turn over on the frigid floor,
My last memory is the wind as it blew out the tiny flame.