+ LOST HOPE +

God never spoke through you;
I know you wanted him to.
You step outside and the sun’s always a
Bit colder
Where you are.
You pack the snow in your pockets
And shove your fingers in
Until they burn like frost.
I see what you
Feel
For the black storm.
I see everything.
Your ballads for me were true
Only for five damn
Minutes at a time.
I whispered to this Lord
You know
The night you came back
From your own
Funeral.
He never heard.
He never even heard me.

+ + + + +

to LISTEN while you read.