I am New England cold
a snowstorm covered in the red dirt of the american southwest
a lurking cold tugs at the corners of showing and telling.
Expression is the enemy
I am broken parts
fastened with unkept promises,
damaged by addiction
and frayed strings of a family
To others concealed,
a cement mask of apathy
affixed to the flushed cheeks
of a child betrayed
Privately I drown
in the quiet
of a hollow home,
these phrases with no meaning
not enough to
fill the space
Deafening silence between people
words ejected from spitting mouths
words falling on indifferent ears
I am the New England cold
a searing heat burning through
the black coal of veiled eyes and padlocked mouths
a jaded pulse seeping through
the cracks in my armour
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
I am New England cold
a snowstorm covered in the red dirt of the american southwest
a lurking cold tugs at the corners of showing and telling.
Expression is the enemy
I am broken parts
fastened with unkept promises,
damaged by addiction
and frayed strings of a family
To others concealed,
a cement mask of apathy
affixed to the flushed cheeks
of a child betrayed
Privately I drown
in the quiet
of a hollow home,
these phrases with no meaning
not enough to
fill the space
Deafening silence between people
words ejected from spitting mouths
words falling on indifferent ears
I am the New England cold
a searing heat burning through
the black coal of veiled eyes and padlocked mouths
a jaded pulse seeping through
the cracks in my armour
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