You left the door open, a cool breeze bit my skin,
Snow flurries covered the entrance, white and sore
I knew no one was coming back again.
After months of silence, thaw began within,
Frozen panels dripping, puddles on the floor.
You left the door open, a cool breeze bit my skin.
By six months, watercolor poppies, hummingbirds’ din,
Ribbons of sun spilled through the open door.
I knew no one was coming back again.
I waited, and waited, through winter, summer, spring,
Then fall reminded me of what I waited for.
You left the door open, a cool breeze bit my skin.
The risk was too great, another year grown thin,
Starless nights pressing, harsher than before.
I knew no one was coming back again.
So I gathered my will, though weary, worn within,
And closed it at last, though my heart was sore.
You left the door open, a cool breeze bit my skin,
I knew no one was coming back again.
About the Creator
Natasha Collazo
Selected Writer in Residency, Champagne France ---2026
The Diary of an emo Latina OUT NOW
https://a.co/d/0jYT7RR
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Poetry Workshop
Previously, I published my first ever exclusive story on Vocal. If you’ve subscribed to my work, then you have access to it. Thank YOU for your support. I hope to make each read worth your while. So with that, I’ll be posting insights for exclusive readers only, such as a workshop on my craft. The hows and who’s of my stories. Pretty much revealing my secrets on how I write with you. So welcome fam, and let’s get started!
By Natasha CollazoExclusive • about a year ago
Bruce Lee and The God of War: Kuan Ti
It starts with love.. The Power to the God Of War and Wealth Walk into a Chinese restaurant (even in Oklahoma, USA), a Chinese police station, a kung fu martial arts studio or even a Chinese temple and you often see a red faced warrior holding a heavy quan-do (spear like weapon).
By WILD WAYNE : The Dragon King6 days ago in Chapters
Comments (4)
Such a heart wrenching Villanelle… I like the glimmer of hope at the end.
This is such a tender grief, a year of mourning. The alliteration of “waited, waited, winter” and “will, weary, worn within” adds to the musical quality of this poem. Well done.
**My poem Leathal Home Etiquette written in villanelle form***
Wow. This reads like a sad, beautiful song