The Winter
She is gone but she never leaves me;
though she has left me, she is always waiting.
Waiting for me to suffer the day so that we may play our little game of predator & prey
while I try to sleep the winter away…
The speaker is grieving, or at least mourning a loss that refuses to stay in the past. The opening lines set up a contradiction: she is gone, yet she never leaves. Whether she has died or simply walked away, the poem doesn't say, but either way her presence lingers like a shadow that won't fade.
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