The Church Walls

The leaves has started fall to the ground.
Bodies packed into warm clothes,
to keep the cold outside.
The sky is gray,
salty water-drops land on my face.
Passing the old cemetery,
the rosebush, now with no roses.
Pulling my coat closer,
to keep warm.
But I still feel icy inside,
the bloodcirculation,
cold as the snow,
who soon will fall.
The heartbeat,
slow as never before.
Could it be a heartattack ?
Well, probably..
but not like the one my grandpa died off.
It has been attacked,
and crushed into tiny pieces,
as easily as glass.
Now passing the church.
The cold white walls,
with cold windows,
starring back at me.
I'm not the good one.
Neither are you.
We're in the same boat now.
With broken hearts and icy blood.
This wound will never heal perfectly.
The pain will always be there.
And so will the feeling of guilt.
Now standing in my kitchen,
watching the view over the cemetary,
and the icy church walls.
We will never be able to apoligies to each other.
Because I left in a hurry,
and you didn't follow.
I didn't expect you to.
I cannot foregive you,
not for you.
But i can pretend i did,
for my own sake.
is that selfish?
You've probably done the same thing.
At least I should hope so,
but i don't.
Somehow I wish you to feel the pain.
Feel the same pain,
as I have for my whole life.
The dinner I made,
it's tasteless.
Like the white church walls.
You used to have a special place in my heart,
you used to be my heroe.
My only example to look up on to.
But those times are over now.
Now,
I have only myself,
and my icy blood
and broken heart,
who soon will turn to stone.
I will put the last brick in the church walls