"frostbite" poems
My skin is frying, I can't stop crying, I feel like I'm dying.
Your touch soothes my fever, your arms hold me together, your bed is my grave.
...
This flame of desire inside me burning so bright,
only you can save me on this night.
...
Here I lay dripping with desire,
for your arrival to calm my fire.
Fill me, tempt me, push me to the limit,
with your burning, chilling touch of Frostbite,
Please save me this night!
...
Call me your "Good Girl", pet me, Play,
withdraw your heat and watch me sway,
Please Sir, don't take this blissful feeling away.
...
I wait on my knees by your side,
Not because I am expected to,
but because it is where I feel safest.
...
**** me roughly, love me tenderly
Strip me bare till there's nothing left, build me up and tear me apart
In your calloused hands, I place my tender heart.
...
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
We were both love. I was a rose and you were a snowflake. Both beautiful and gentle but unable to coexist effectively because flowers can’t blossom in the cold.
Yet when it ended, the truth became misconstrued.
Suddenly I was a thorn that pricked you till you bled.
And you were frostbite that nipped away at my skin.
We created false portrayals of each other to make this all a bit easier to deal with.
But the truth will always stay.
We were both beauty, purity, fragility, love.
We just weren’t meant to give our love to each other.
And now we both bleed, because the hardest part is accepting we were never meant to be.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 2:46 PM UTC
There is no moral code
When time is an icy road
Where you cannot stop
Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground
When the temperature drops
Snow collects in my frosty frown
And starts to linger
On my frostbite fingers
While I keep sliding
On the line we're riding
I see icy roads
Leading to icy modes
Of acting
Impacting
The way we treat each other
The same way we beat each other
To the finish line
Of our frigid time
Time isn't nice
When it's ice
But it's all we know
Time continually goes
The challenges grow
Buried in snow
Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope
Sliding downhill is a slippery slope
If you momentarily lose your control
You're pulled over by the cops on patrol
Everything is covered in snow
Even the cars being towed
Their owners gave away their agency
And are at the tow truck driver's mercy
They rely on him to get them to safety
So they cunningly wear his jersey
There are things we want
Acquired by tease and taunt
We drive on top of bodies
To gain traction on the street
We do what is naughty
To have enough to eat
I careen through time
Without seeing a dime
Everything looks so plain
In this frozen rain
When the ordinary life
Is within my sight
I look for something more
Only to see a frozen door
There is ice on the road
There is ice in my heart
I can't handle the load
In the back of my cart
Until I decide
To abide
By the slide
And glide
On the edge of control and freedom
There are other cars and I'll lead them
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
All my dreams
Are black and white
Colorless meaning
While I'm dreaming
Featureless faces
Claw at my flesh
A man?
A woman?
This dream is a mess
All I see
Are Cold black eyes
Frostbite burns
Between my thighs
Lost in darkness
another nightmare
I look for a savior
But you're not there
No knight in shining armor
To whisk me away
No tattooed prince
To save the day
Just me
Alone
In a twisted state
Fetal position
The shape I take
You'd think I'd know better
At this point in life
My dreams
by no means
resemble real life
Metaphors always
scramble my brain
I try to decode
Just to stay sane
Awake from my slumber
And all I can think…
Why can't I dream
In tangerine?
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
I want to apologise.
Broken relationships, I shall eulogise.
To those I know (or, knew);
Forgive my absence when you needed a warm caress and a hug,
But instead got frostbite, a torrent of snow or dew.
I am sorry for drawing a sword
When you were hoping for an olive branch;
I can be as thorny as an all-knowing lord.
I wish my heart was limitless,
And my kindness infinite –
I dream of love that is fearless,
And of joyousness completely exquisite.
Yet, that is not who I am –
I can be a calm ocean or a tempest,
A total commotion, or peacefully at rest.
I can be enigmatic and reserved,
Or, I can be charismatic, if the mood is reversed.
We are not good or bad;
We can be lewd and strikingly mad,
Or cunningly shrewd, or maybe sad.
We are the yin and the yang;
We all tend to sin, to our demons we hang.
We are objects of pure fascination,
In constant fluctuation,
A recalcitrant reconciliation.
So, I will say it one more time –
Look into my eyes, see through my guise.
I apologise to those who had no shoulder to cry on
And sought mine, when I was not there.
I hope you’re fine, and that someone showered you with care.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
The stars once more have lost their race
Through night-sky versus mercurial moon.
In this defeat no dishonor will debase
Futile efforts to intersect upon the lune.
Desert scents of juniper and Mormon Tea
Waft fragrant above the comfort fire smoke.
Banana yucca roasting at my knee,
Fleshy fruit consumption for us hungry folk.
Nevada nights nip raw this time of year;
Our lot is cast by glowing embers,
Whose reflector stones essential to survival,
Stave off cold that we need not fear
Frostbite to peripheral members,
Till sunlight returns with warmth's revival.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
keep me in mind
when I am hidden.
when I keep myself away,
from the burning light of day.
It's burnt away my nerves,
I can't feel a thing.
Numb to the world,
but feeling in the cold.
I've said it a thousand times,
I'll say it a thousand more.
I'm not the type to laugh,
I'll always shut the door.
So the cold is where I stay,
I can't sleep when it's warm.
I feel myself on fire,
always starting a new war.
Oh sunshine,
please die.
stop mocking my frostbite,
stop torching all desire.
Why won't you listen?
have you no ears?
I've been this way since birth,
I'll be this way for years.
I told you I'm not human.
I'm not the way I should be.
the tundra behind my bedroom door,
it's swallowed me.
Please don't forget about me.
I'm dying to leave.
I'm dying for someone to reach out,
instead I'm dying from greif.
Let's build a fire,
not the kind that kills.
But to melt the ice,
that's been holding me against my will.
Rather, just let me burn.
I'll turn to dust,
I'll drift away,
It's all a deadly lust.
Don't let me run,
tie me tight.
I need the fire,
but I think I might die.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Pastels and pretty pictures,
I lean back in the couch,
The elephant in the room,
She'll never know about,
How the critics wail over the way the paint falls off her brush.
I would rather drop-dead,
Than ever talk about
That night back in 07'
Teeth flying out my mouth,
But I think you would've liked me better then anyhow,
I'm curious...
I'm curious...
...I'm curious....
..Cause
I
just
wanna
see
what
makes
you
tick
Each year he writes a note
and leaves it in his room,
Key lime pie, Saturdays at the zoo,
Reminiscing flashbacks of better fast food,
Dead the day,
He scurries home in the dead of night,
Dragging his will, whats left, shaking off the frostbite,
Volunteers to play drunken clown for another night,
I think of their eyes and everything that they've seen,
Nothing that I see could ever be unique,
So don't you lie and say you see it shining in me.
I'm curious...
I'm curious...
...I'm curious....
..Cause
I
just
wanna
see
what
makes
you
tick
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Optimism: I’m in love. Pessimism: I’m dying. Realism: We all are. It’s hard to say goodbye with chapped lips and clumsy words, but empty pockets feel better when they’ve spent more time capturing your body heat than bits of metal and paper. —I didn’t look at the cup long enough to know if it was half empty or half full because it was dropped before I could reach the sink. Now it’s just a bunch of shattered glass beneath bare feet in the middle of winter. My hands had become so numb just before they touched warm water for the first time since the chill and it was a surprising sensation —an unexpected pain as I started to feel again; you feared frostbite but I only thought about the painful walk home.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
White light like ice without the cold
sun going down, down
down
on uncanny land
mine is not kin
but I remember lavender through glass
snow I let burn a slow
slow burn
frozen flowers I thought would last
and fear like slow
blooming frostbite
born in my belly
bred in white, white
sunlight
falling now
as it was
and I was
then.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Sometimes I just stop,
I dream of those frostbite eyes,
And sigh a deep sigh.
It went by in blinks,
You were there, here, and then gone,
Just like that I lost.
I dreamt of your face,
Your raven hair, your snow skin,
Dreamcatcher broken.
Drowned my ears with words,
My paper with fragile strokes,
And my eyes with loss.
Your laugh was rapture,
A world away from this earth,
Comfort in the clouds.
Your arm is bloodless,
Your smile is showing and bright,
For this, I’m content.
‘I miss you’ is weak,
I feel much more than just that,
I starve for your warmth.
Love’s progressive chords,
A curve in the beat, ******
All advance halted.
Your name is beauty,
‘Katriana’ my tongue sings,
Your face to match name.
-March 2013
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 3:34 AM UTC
Blessed be the Bleak Black Skies
Where wintry winds wind far and wide
For fairest fairies heaven’s vault ignite
– My mind meandered whilst outside.
“Beware Beloved boy!” – Babushka bawled
“Lest your sleigh slides down the sleety lake
Come quick inside to escape the cold
Except my heart this Yule you yearn to ache”
Seven summers since have passed
And adamant as I always am,
Torpefied are my toes atop the tarn
Yet bare-bodied I be
Showcasing my shivering sheath
Red cheeks, red nose, and red feet
Keen to knuckle under Kári’s decree
So, I submerged myself swiftly
Below Boreas’s biting abode
Concealed in the coldest calmest of waters
Within Winter Wonderland’s whitest
For that freeze that forces you to fathom
that Corpses can’t feel the cold
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC
i am a glacier icy and white
the color of frostbite dark in the night
if you want to catch me it will take all your might cause ......
i am a glacier icy and white
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
I last rode this road in Summer
When the light was as now;
Long, flat and mellow
But by the hour not the season
The trees back then still wore clothes
Green, perhaps liver-spotted with yellow
Now I watch them tangle their naked arms
And the world turns its face away in shame,
Longing for its chastised summer
The wheat field is grey scrub
An old bristling beard
And my bike tyres trace its edge
Like fingers on the jaw of our grandfather
And the watercolour wind
Rinses my knuckle bones
And then bites them open
They don’t bother to bleed
They’ve been chewed too many times
As the clouds wash in,
Black with frostbite,
I bite my winter scarf
And sing to it of bluebirds
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
Neon Stella Artois lights and sly hellos
It commenced as we were flew spinning
Ticket stubs and ink -stains
Oh, as our love flirted we both were seeking
Brooklyn Subway stops and ***** clothes
We perched by the equator but only when beginning
Backwards flasks and *******
Then winter solstice was challenged by spring’s springing
Strands of soft pearls and wishing wells
We shivered the anxious touch of a faux July summer’s evening
Empty bar stools and firelight
It was still bitterly February but with the mockery of songbirds floating
Two Thirty Seven A.M. and sea shells
How can the world deceive us in this fashion: fools, we accept ever-knowing
Buttered bread and hindsight
Dawn will crash with frostbite and these daisies will pay the price of their beauty’s sinning
Wine before noon and payphone bills
Wind will eviscerate this moment for once you have touched the sun the ice is more than suffocating
Dry heaving and ribbons
We were only waiting then at the heart of a train station for the stretches of shadows to lengthen
First drags of cigarettes and blue diet pills
The glitter within the dew drops stolen from our tired eyes when our first summer was stolen
Cheap motels and kitchens
We could barely exchange syllables, our melodies quarreling, our blood had thinned
Calendar pages and black lace *******
The euthanasia of the spring would have hung us too if we had breathed it in
The Last calls and lollipops
One can repose more gently in the absence of color than in the theft of sin
Bitten manicured hands and autumn leaves
We used to sleep in a room with wonders, windows, and blankets within
Midnight whispers and rooftops
It was the only place that could soften the swords in all this ruin
****** wrappers and painting supplies
Today is cruel, it cannot be summer if the world doesn’t spin
Happy hour cocktails and goodbyes
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
**I lay,
nothing on my skin
but a thin layer of goosebumps.
My body pressed against
the frosty wall,
reminding me
of your touch.**
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
i am the frostbite
spreading through the frozen fingers of your new lover's
hands, transferred body heat
burning the skin.
i am 3 am drinks in the
pouring rain, swerving onto
oncoming traffic.
i am the ship lost at sea of our love.
i am a broken bathroom mirror.
i am an unidentified purple bruise
on the neck of your ex-lover.
i am the fork in the toaster.
i am an untuned guitar in
a filthy venue.
calloused hands against soft skin.
slam the whiskey shot down on your neck. wash the blood off in the kitchen sink.
broken blinds forcing unwanted sunlight into your nightmares.
i am the definition of breakup *** i am the
aftermath of self-hatred and one more go around.
**** just for the fun of it, just to ****
pretend you are making love. pretend this matters.
i am late night emergency room
visits for rope-burned necks.
i am the car alarm blocking out your
one night stand's profound moans.
organize your bookshelf to spell out my name in the titles.
every song on the radio
will sound like goodbye.
i am the perfect time for a first kiss. swollen lips. swollen throats. inevitably calling your name on my deathbed.
i am under-the-bed-shoeboxes filled
with ripped photos that
still smell of his cologne.
i am one more dose of ambien
to get you through the night.
overdose on love, starve your lover.
stop.
rewind.
i am the first glance in a coffee shop.
play.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
I am a true vagabond.
Flowing in and out of the moments presented with a fierce desire to absorb as much knowledge from every experience. I have taken a piece of every place with me and kept them all close at heart.
The night life of Vegas. The Heat from Tuscon. The Storms from Tempe. The Sunsets from San Antonio. The History from D.C. The Laziness of L.A. The snow from Denver. The Rose from Abileene. The pens from Dallas. The spirit of Austin. The smog from Houston.The frostbite from Grand Forks. The sand from San Diego. The trees from Alexandria. The Disney Magic from Orlando. The tornadoes from Pratville.
I have taken a piece of every state and city and absorbed its significance. The days fade into nights and I am somewhere new every time. I love the cities I have been too and the worlds that I have collided with.
I am a true Vagabond. Even if my home is here or there I am in spirit everywhere.
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
Thunderstorms is that deep anger inside me. Its rather rare and it doesnt happen very often, but when it does, i just get very miserable and take it out on the people around me. I dont mean to hurt them, i just need to let it out. But since its so rare, there's a sort of beauty in that passionate anger.
Volcanoes. My anxiety lays low and simmers steadily for long periods of time and then it gradually rises and the pressure increases until it explodes, and then it just covers every single surrounding aspect of life, temporarily consuming everything else. Then theres a period of silence and nothingness after. Then I begin to rebuild.
Gentle and persistent rain is just that gloom that hangs around, and you can never quite shake. Its not necessarily painful or harmful, its just dreary and more draining than one would expect. It can be dispelled by strong bursts of sunlight.
Wind is for those times when I rapidly shift, going from gentle and lovable on a hot day to a violent gale which pushes back outside influence.
And the ocean is because im constantly exploring myself constantly trying to map out every section of my brain and my body and my limitations but no matter how deep i ever dive, the pressure is too overwhelming, and ill never know everything, and so theres this.. Mysterious aspect to the deeper parts of the ocean, similar to the deeper parts of my brain.
For those times when my emotions cycle rapidly, I am as destructive as a hurricane. The emotions whip around just as fast as any gust of wind, but truly, they are all just as deadly as each other. Nothing can stop the trio of emotions, they just go until they don't have enough energy to fuel themselves any more.
Forgive me if I am a blizzard. From time to time I become scathingly cold. I become icy, unrelenting and unbearable. Getting caught within the blizzard will leave those so unfortunate with a bad case of frostbite which can only be amputated if you hope to survive. The cold will linger, but the regretful sun will try its hardest to warm you back up.
Then in turn, I will become too confident in myself. The sun will get too hot. It will be too sure of itself, and it will scorch and burn.
As a result, the clouds will roll in and humility will take over, masking the arrogance which was so offensive. On a cloudy day, forgive me, I just wish I could be better.
Be wary of earthquakes. Fear will be felt throughout my body, and it will rock me down to the core, and it will rumble through my mind until I tear apart. Beware of falling objects.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
They call me the Ice Queen.
My heart embedded in a sheet of arctic glass.
Impenetrable and safe in the confines of it’s frosted walls.
Snowflakes hit my cheeks as if laughing about my frozen state,
“you’re smart never to fall in love” they whisper as they flutter.
The words sting as fresh as frostbite on my toes.
Not being able to love is no summer paradise.
It’s a curse as raw as winter,
As unwanted as an avalanche,
A severe storm.
A fear ruling my body.
Robbing me of all warmth,
As I sit freezing,
Icicles where tears would normally form.
Constantly traveling on snow capped mountains,
I ask myself,
Whether love is the fool or I for not loving?
Once again the wind picks up,
As the childhood memories hail down as reasons
Why I stay in this state of white wasteland fill my mind...
Frigid reminders of a mother who kept re-marrying,
and a father who could never fully commit to a woman despite the chilling loneliness.
No sculpted example of Love carved into my frosty mind.
Remaining as uncertain of what Love even means,
As if my mind were slipping on black ice,
I plunge back into the safety of snowfalls,
Scared of what it means to be anything but numb.
But hope is an odd thing.
Hope to one day feel the glacier surrounding my caged heart to melt.
Hope for the goosebumps to stop tickling my arms.
Hope for the ice to one day thaw as I make my escape from
My never-ending Ice Age.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
I get sent socks at Christmas,
So I can have safe walks.
When I tell my friends about this,
Everybody talks.
There is no innuendo,
Nothing to confess.
Without those cushioning blankets
My feet would be a mess.
I know a friend who knits socks,
In many different hues.
So long as she keeps knitting,
Our feet won’t have the blues.
So Wendy sock it to ‘em:
All that stitch and purl.
Make them good and roomy,
So our toes don’t have to curl.
No chance of any frostbite,
With these things on our feet.
For comfort on a cushion,
These socks just can’t be beat.
Paul Butters
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
i didn't wear my hat, i know
i should have, but i felt rebellious
in some small way, i tried to cheat the day
and paid in tingling pain, sharp aching corners
and a strange sense of pride in my bones warmed me
until just the tips of my ears were left white, dead
yes, dead
but i felt alive
to be in danger and know it, to press on against the cold
to push forward into the wind, though before you is only white
to turn blindly into the storm, to accept the blizzard's strength
to guess what lies ahead in fear and still take the risk
this, to me
is courage
maybe i'm just talking about frostbite like some romantic wound
or maybe we're in danger, you and i
pressing on into the storm despite numbing fingers
smiles frozen, eyes watery
maybe we'll get frostbite in our hearts
but i think it's worth the risk
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC