Greek myth

Looking at a face in the mirror, a face barely known. The blood rushes to the surface, antagonising the skin; no reaction. Sallow and sunken. Dead pupils, the moonlight doesn’t even venture that close now; there was a time when it hit every depth. Once a narcissist, now a dead flower overwhelmed by carbon dioxide.

frosted glass

The taste of your soul still alive in my mouth.  

Strands of stray hairs on a dirty pillow case.

Open windows letting the cold air scorch cold stone colder. Stale memories lit only by your half eaten love.

Winter has come early.