Biting Cold

on the spot

I kept thinking I’d survive

But the wind pipe in my throat is closing

And I can’t seem to see in front of me anymore

The swirls are driving me up the wall

And the thought

Of things are making me insane

Nothing compared to it a while ago

And now

Somehow

The sky thinks it’s alright to freeze up

Without snow

But the biting cold is slicing my body

And even at home

My warmness has faded

There are icicles in my heart

Nothing to warm my hands with

Except the record of your voice

But even that is fading

Becoming old and tainted

I haven’t forgotten you, I promise

It’s just

The chill outside

It’s making me think things that I otherwise wouldn’t have

The stagnant taste of the stale atmosphere whistles through these pipes I breathe out of

If you dissect the air outside, down to the moment it was created, you’d find it stemmed out of something unlikely; heat

Heat is the core of cold

And cold is the core of the heat

But we do not see these things because the idea does not come about

I think about these things

I think about things that seem otherworldly to others, but that is the only thing I know how to do

 

Reviews

[Willard Wells]

Metaphors here and the cold and ice I know from years in Alaska and when it's cold enough you have a bit of fear. Well done, but turn up the heat dude. Or go walk around the mall for free. :)

[FaeryQueen]

too cold... brrrrrrr

[Willard Wells]

Sorry for your cold. Try to stay warm and stay safe. Peace be with you.

[FaeryQueen]

thanks..............................

[Willard Wells]

Write a piece about a warm tropical island where you would bask in the sun and sip Pina Coladas or water. And while there feel the warmth of the tropic air but the love of all those surrounding you and holding you to keep you warm. "Imagine"

[Willard Wells]

BTW. If you write this well when it's cold, don't let people know. Or your will never be warm.

[FaeryQueen]

okay.............................................................