bitter cold
  it cuts through my coat
  tearing at my skin
   until I am chilled to the bone
    the very marrow

to leave the cold
 to escape its grasp
   I must leave the wind

so too is your Ö love
 it tears at my heart
   until I am wearied to the bone
     the very marrow of my existence

 and so similar, the solution
   to become free of frigid touch of your words
   to escape your grasp
     I must leave your presence

so please,
 donít ask why I wonít visit
   why I do not answer when you call
     indeed, why I treat you as nonexistent
 no, donít ask

not when the reason is so apparent
Number of WoR's attended: 3
Last attended: 2011