She's gone

It was cold, very very cold.
 
I went for a walk with misery in one pocket.
In the other, my dead wife's golden locket.
 
How confused I felt  
holding sunlight in one hand
and darkness in the other.
 
Onwards I walked.
 
Fists clenched against the truth or the cold or both.
 
" It will do you good " they said.
 
But it didn't
for I wished that I was dead.
But I wasn't  
I had a life to live instead.