winter crawls up trees,
lies grim on branch and leaf;
even my words have become thin
between my lips and your ears
something goes dying.
something with the exquisite yellowness
of poppies, something of sorrow
and oblivion
you are so far,
and my voice does not touch you;
my words cross your heart
without stopping
you have hidden yourself
and leave me to separate your face
from the lament of my mouth,
and from cold things
tonight I’ll cut out my heart
(it’s the only word here
that is warm and swollen)
and remember you as you were
before the word love
lost its echo
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
… excellent job… by the way… the line “you are so far, and my voice does not touch you;” reminds me of Neruda… 
Love ya girl. 
This piece is palpable with pain & vivid with your anguish, my lovely Friend, my beautiful Sister of the Soul...This is also a completely exquisite display of sentiment, revealing the depths of your Heart...It isn't easy, cutting your chest open & exposing your Self to the world...There is a lot of pain in this world that never finds a voice...Your penning sings with clarity, making it nearly bearable...I am so sorry for the depths & widths of your suffering...This is a very intense, vivid penning; it is obviously a heart~wrenching revelation that requires a great deal of courage to reveal...The shadows are not an easy place in which to breathe...As Poets, we help define the whispers of the World...Your words are painted memories, including the black, white & shades of gray, scented by blooming petals ~ & falling petals ~ in the metaphors you use...Ehhh, I'm merely repeating what I've already said before & what you already know...I'll send you the link for this one, Nic...Love you, Woman...You know I'm right here...
