I am cold.
A disgrace of winter
only thawed enough to breathe.
I'm losing myself in this storm.
Snowflakes cut my ankles
making it harder to walk.
Maroon licks my skin,
the white
only falls harder.
Fire.
In a vacancy of shivers
I mourn for warmth,
beg to the god that doesn't exist to me
for a gving of passion,
a flicker of importance,
and a spark of perfection.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC