This morning is silent.
There is no sound
of footsteps in the hall
of showers or sinks
of alarm clocks
or birds.
There is only snow
drifting placidly down
soundless upon the grey backdrop.
My feet are cold on the tiles
my breath in the air.
Perhaps it happened last night
I would not even know
if everyone left and I,
I was left behind here.
In a world that is silent
and gets colder and colder and colder
a world that is empty
of possibilities; of joy
like color leeched out.
A world where I am alone,
it goes by the name hell.
And yet here I stand
in a cold room
alive
heart still beating constant
wishing to be elsewhere.
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