My protoplasmic shell sits warm in the Summer sun,

while my soul lies trapped in the frozen tundra.

The two cannot coexist, without negating creation;

resulting in, psychological frustration.

An impasse in the innards of a ruined soul,

between warring generals of Good and Evil.  

Time will not heal, nor will the Summer sun loosen their grasp.

Instead I remind myself of the days we spent together.

Remembering the good, the bad, and everything between.

A tickle of warmth, to break the firing line, a brief reprieve.

Living like a slave to buried memories.

We shined like the brightest stars

even on the darkest of nights.

Yet we never knew when to give up a fight.

I guess this is where I find the light,

or recess into the shadow-less night. 

love… will I ever get you right?