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Dec 2014
Blinking lights, passing cars, life,
Glazed over before my eyes.
Careening they go with each breath.
I cry, I mourn,
I laugh, I smile,
Each day gets a little more grey.
I try to paint my way but my inner darkness gets in the way.
Our cold little safety blankets can whisper the sweetest things.
They promise warmth and light
But they only bring death.
Yet we snuggle and refuse to leave.
Baby it’s cold outside
How can we ever know when we are so numb?
I really can’t stay
But Baby it’s cold inside.
Xanthe
Written by
Xanthe
825
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