My heart is like a cabin in the woods;

Hidden from sight.

Sometimes I’ll raise signs to show that life still lives here,

But I forget;

There is no one around to see it

For the twisted vines cling to the wooden architecture,

The forest keeping the cabin veiled

 

During the cold winters,

I’ll cook on a fire,

Hoping that someone follows the smoke choking through the chimney.

But when the silence follows the cracking flames

It’s better to pretend you like being alone.

Protecting the scarred skin hurt from the fire’s flame.

 I’ll use mittens to pick up blistering metal,

And I eat alone in my cabin.

 

In spring, when the ice thaws, and the distance stirs,

I’ll crane my neck to see past the rejuvenated sun,

Just to get a glance of the life unable to reach me.

Sometimes that glance gives me enough courage to stray from my cabin,

But the soggy ground makes it hard to walk,

And the humidity perspires uncomfortably on my skin,

So I return to my cabin.

 

Summers are sweltering,

The heat forcing a wave of loneliness

That makes me sweat tears.

I want to venture past my shady haven,

But the sound of cicadas keeps me in front of the fan,

The wall of air blocking my ears from the clicking.

And I’m persuaded to stay in my cabin.

 

By the time fall comes,

I’m too tired to dream of leaving my cabin,

So I watch the leaves spin off dead trees,

Their life withering to the camouflaged ground

And it makes me think;

 

If I cut the strands tying my heart to the ground of this forest

And let my vines bleed the blood of a broken heart

Will the feeling of passivity pull me back again,

And keep me in the same cycle…

 

 At the end of the day,

My heart is like a cabin in the woods;

Hidden yet open in plain sight