"Whats wrong mate?"
I ask myself in the mirror.

"Why are you crying?

Come on soldier,
Chin up!

Lets get pissed on cider,
Flame a bit of herb,
And have loads of cuddles."

After some considerable time,
Several spillages,
And much amusement,
The first winds of winter,
Moaned through the window.

The curtains reared up for a second or two,
And my only friend,
Myself,
Vanished.

Emptiness and tears filled my chest,
And the air seemed as if it was all full of skeletons.

Lovely

Thanks both.