don't know if this has been published or not

the windows were left open
the evening that winter came
and there they stayed
for month by months, and months on end,
until all the green grass was dead.
but then, by spring we were both surrounded.
dark as night, winter remained,
purging joy from my head.
i spoke aloud, just to be ignored,
and you just stared
out that window, like nothing mattered
and you no longer cared.
so i just prayed and dreamed for the day
when i can give in.

the green shades of the windowsill
reflect themselves onto your face.
it's an image i cannot forget,
with the moonlight fading.
devoured by broken clouds
like the bitter pieces of the youthful dream
that someday it'll be okay
for us to give in.