Nothing

Nothing.

The spark - gone.

Last breath - the rock - obtusely dissipating.

The suffocation, eagerly dispersing

The days

Reversing.

 

Nothing.

No more - gone.

The lucid sore -thorn in throat-

 a hypnagogic ecstasy becomes.

 

Nothing.

The tunnel - illusion.

Frigid warmth- the oxymoron of beauty-

Fills the shell.

Nothing…                      

Why is it suddenly so cold…?

Author's Note

I'd like to hear your interpretation of this.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Great flow of words and emotion. No weakness in this poem. Just honest and strong words. Thank you for the outstanding poem.
Coyote