WINDOWS

when the light sleeps

and all have washed away to rest

i walk along the many streets

which scatter my past affairs

like a drifting spirit

i take the time to see

where each stray has landed

the strays may call this act stalking.

but most don't know it even occurs

some of them still speak out against me

screaming into their own personal voids

in a desperate attempt to cope with themselves

others say nothing at all

and most forget

i, however, never forget

and possibly never will

as each rhythmic move leads to a memory

and i've never defied the urge to walk the infinite streets

i peer into the windows that haven't frozen over

watching, waiting, wishing, wondering

they all seem so still

as if i were the hands that turned time

when i have finished observing

i tend to flicker

unless, of course, i am in the aura of those i fear

in most cases, i am met with darkness

yet when i need them the least, a stray flickers back

leaving me waiting, wishing, wondering

i keep walking

and return to all that still is

attempting to live my idea of a life

though i will again find myself on evergoing streets

and yet again, i will peer into the aging windows

and when a window becomes enveloped

in ice and lost promises

i find myself wishing, wondering

in such times, i pour my rations away

pushing my heart onto another

when all else fails, i either take to paper or insanity

the latter occurring more often than it should

still, either option lets me forget the burden of emotion

so i only end up wondering

wondering why windows won't wave

why windows won't warm

why windows weep, why windows warn

why windows

why?

why is a question that is not enough asked.

maybe if someone, a lover or even my mother

would just once ask why

an answer to my own self-detriment would arrive

and i 'd be so preoccupied with such freeing realizations that i would forget to wander the sleeping streets

giving my strays time to disappear

and i would no longer wish

to catch a stray outside a window of my own

thank you for reading this poem. it is an excerpt from my poetry book "temptations of a splintered heart" which you can find at votoire.com or on amazon. as an independent author it means the world that you took the time to read this piece and i hope you have a lovely day or night wherever you are.