Monday’s Ego

wind chimes clink
in the night air
lovers lock arms
cars honk horns
and speed by
Monday evening wipes
its eyes

defeated
she turns her hands
up to Tuesday
and the week
bows humbly to
stroke her ego


Originally shared via Twitter.

Winter’s Mind Games

Photo by Denys Nevozhai via Unsplash

She sits carelessly at the edge
of my weakened eyes.
I know what she wants.
I know what she needs.
She flits in and out of our
lives, carrying a depth we
cannot understand.

One day, she’s showering snow,
the next, she’s spitting rain down
on us and I am ready for her to
make up her mind.
I step outside to a burst of
cold air that wraps me up
instantly and settles in every
agile joint and I wince.

I layer up to deal with the
bitterness of her breath; my head
is completely covered.
My arms are flailing in protest.
What will the rest of this day bring?
It is half-past 10 in the morning;
the thermostat hasn’t budged.

I sneak back inside from a
dreaded walk, douse my hands
in warm water and soap, 
and, crawl under the comfort
of a thick blanket.

The other day, she blew a bit of
sun in our direction, falsifying
her presence.
I thought for sure, she’d
nestle up in my corner
and bank in on consistency.
I was wrong.

I talk to Winter. I tell her
how much I love her,
how much I appreciate her
yearly appearance, but we
have our disagreements.
I’m willing to acknowledge them
if she’s willing to be an adult
about her wishy-washy ways.

It is a quarter to 2 and the
afternoon is lingering on,
teasing me with her
physique. I’ve decided I’m
done being a toy for Winter.

She can run those
mind games on someone
else.


Originally published in P. S. I Love You via Medium.