on your knees

these empty
rooms,
bare walls.
cold blue,
and soft greys match
the wintry
feeling you have
sunk into.
you get dressed
and leave.
you walk,
hands in your
pockets.
finally
the trees have
exhaled themselves
of leaves.
a silvery
stream runs
along
the woods where
you walk.
you want to be
left alone,
which is fine
for now,
internally
on your knees.