...She speaks in the cold
a naked warmth
Burning cloak
of cold fires
through dark shadows
emanating from beneath
Heaven is a long journey
that winds up
within the path of hell
and maybe
endless
Maybe we won't find it
There is no easy way
but to swallow each thorn
to bleed us dry
Words were not made by
rainbows and colorful skies
but of burden
that ironically saves us...
Would we deny it?
Yes
we always have...