It’s cold.

The rain happily splashes away on the roof making sounds that dutifully disturbs your sleep.

You wake up; sleep in your eyes.

You open your eyes to darkness, and you struggle for sight.

It’s cold.

Silence.

That is all you ever hear.

And beneath the dark backdrop, the thoughts, without warning, come unbidden.

You try to stop it. Freeze it over time; tuck it away in the deepest recesses of your mind.

You lose.

Thoughts, memories, come undone.

Nostalgia swept through you and hastily, you can’t breathe.

You pull the sheets closer to you.

It’s cold.

The thoughts ran and dance about, joyously pirouetting with memories.

Memories long gone, too far behind, too happy to remember.

And then the onslaught of tears.

Breathing now became a burden.

The pain, like a dull knife cuts through.

You close your eyes and realize what a bad idea it was.

The voices become louder, the memories more vivid.

The scars open like fresh wounds.

It’s cold.

The rain happily splashes away.

It’s cold.

The darkness penetrates your being.

It’s cold.

And loneliness is your blanket.

It’s cold.

Death, your peace.

It’s cold.

It’s cold.