Spring isn’t Coming

It’s been a long winter      
She whispers softly        
She looks as though she hasn’t left that seat in months          
Her hand is clutching a nearly empty bottle        
As though it is the only thing grounding her here        
Her leg is bouncing uncontrollably          
As if her body is reminding her she can move  
The winters here are long        
And cold        
And harsh        
They take and they take and they take        
And they feel as though they will never end        
The snow keeps falling        
The wind keeps blowing          
The sun keeps hiding        
And she has been hibernating          
Wrapped up in sweaters and blankets        
Stockpiling bottles to warm her insides        
Barricading herself inside the house,        
Hiding from the storm          
         
Its been a long winter        
A little louder this time        
Her voice is brittle      
She raises her head          
Takes a sip of the liquid fire clutched in her hand        
If you look close enough you can see the tremors        
Her skin is pale, sickly almost        
Dark circles make her eyes appear sunken        
Her empty hand grips her still bouncing knee as though she has to physically stop it        
As though the action is involuntary        
As though it is not a part of her body        
The winters here are long        
They are brutal and painful        
They are debilitating          
And she is waiting, hopelessly, for this one to end          
For spring to be born          
So that she may have a few short months of reprieve          
Before it comes again        
         
It’s been too fucking long of a winter        
She’s yelling, crying, screaming      
Her voice echoing back at her          
The bottle is empty now as she shatters it against the wall        
Broken glass litters the floor        
She has left her seat        
And now she shakes, swaying, in the middle of the room        
Her chest heaves as she catches her breath        
The curtains are drawn shut, the house is a cave
Silent, empty, dark      
And cold      
So fucking cold      
The winters here are long        
They are ruthless and cruel        
She grabs another bottle and settles back into her chair        
And pretends spring will come on its own