This is the cave in which I hid
when I ran away from my life.
But it's not so cold anymore;
In fact, it feels quite nice.

I would sit in my dark cavern
and pretend tomorrow looked good,
but as it crept around the frowning moon
it appeared just as I knew it would.

At the kitchen table, in the breakfast nook,
I became a zombie with a beating heart.
Snowflakes fell like feathers, from the other side;
They dropped with the tears I simultaneously cried.

For hours I sat and stared through the glass,
my frost-bitten heart trapped under an avalanche.

The sound of the coffee, brewing a blanket
provided warm respite.  
"Oh what a delight!", I would write, with sarcasm that
quickly became quite trite.

I still don't know how a place so bright, could have such a
tremendous absence of light.
Oh but it did, and shadows swallowed my sight.

As I visit now, a sick nostalgia 
sinks into my skin;
I don't even attempt to sweat it out again.

I allow the coffee machine to win.