Frigid

To be left to the interpretation of those who find sadness in all facets of life.

Ash, ghost of embers,
Dirt for the sky.
A cold body beneath
begging for the blankets.
The blankets for the warmth
My body cannot give.

Stars to myself
Cold air for the health,
Ice peeled back from the tar.
With Spring now released
cold air still, I will not leave.

Satan for sure
Cold air still, now the
Sky has torn through.
The gnarled sidewalk
Wounded hard and deep by those roots,
An uneven row of old oaks.

Body is gone
blankets be damned
Killed not by the streetlights
But by the closeness of the air inside,
Breathing be missed.

Back on the beat
Woods-bound for Hell.
Feet tumble useless,
cinders extinguished
to the chandelier of stars.

Darkness breeds patience.
Hopeful for love.
Blankets now gone,
The warmth left to ash.

Author's Note

Capitilization and punctuation is lent complexity by the use of my smartphone, but I think maybe I like it this way anyways.