The Cold Light

by ianblackpoet

December dreams, discarded;
Ruined resolutions;
Fractured smiles and pageantry;
The lies of laughter.
The cold kiss of January,
Bitterness of morning:
Spectres looming still –
In coal-rimmed eyes.
Bankrupted bottles
Drained for absent answers,
And again for comfort:
Carried out of sight.
Gilded, leaden hearts;
Hope confined in memories;
The quiet, the old self,
And the cold light.