"frostbites" poems
I couldn't compare
The way your light brown eyes
Light the whole totality in me
As if nothing the light couldnt touch
It's filling up the darkness in me
And stop giving me the smile
That stops the ticking clocks
No matter how i beg to be in your forever
As i couldn't resist the tempation to live and let die in your embrace
I wouldn't want to trade
Your chilly touch
With a burning ember
Or any comfort for change
Let the frostbites seal me in your arms so i can stay and please, just stay
Its the way you move
And the way you talk
That takes me on a joy ride on my mortality
This is how your beauty is immortalized
When it is no longer in existence
Or when it is forgotten
By me or by you
At the end of the day
It is not how the moonlight
touches your enthral scars
Your best beauty is
How it brings out the best of me
Within you
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
Death gives no rest to my cluttered mind. Death is my enemy! Even in slumber death claws to infect my dreams with its poison called nothingness! So I locked death in the depths of my heart in a chest marked fear. I put on different worldly masks… called college, travel, success, accolades, fiancé, money, sex….I used them to hide my shame but each one was cold blue and hypothermic. Yet in them I felt comfortable at the expense of lost potential and false identity. In frostbites pinnacle my only unbreakable mask shattered…..I lost my Love…………The wailing echoes of delusion shook me frigid till my raw bones shattered the question. Who am I? The undercurrent of desperation violently hydrated my reflection on the dark waters of my soul! I am faceless! Without a face who am I! Death take me now, for I am already nothing! From below came a vibration that graced my reflection with an ear, a lash and a deep iris.. then windows to my soul sprang and a smile dripped in unabated rejoice…I’m alive!!!! Who has done this?! Show your face, for you are my dearest friend! Without words death was shaken loose to the depressing reality of dipped anxiety. From behind my many masks I could see Death. For the first time I face you! Your eyes paint the familiar threat that casts me into the obis of nothingness but without you life was delusional meaninglessness! Because of your death threats my life has a face. Death is my Enemy and my Friend……………..Jesus conquered death so through it I may learn the meaning of His Love and who I really am......now to take down more of my masks……easier said than done....Praise Jesus.........To be continued……………….
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
And each snowflake–
Distinct and different
Falls and is caught
In your thimbleweed-lashes
As it flutters against my cheek,
Against butterfly kisses,
In the Central Park.
And there we were
Nothing but frostbites
And mothers’ mittens
And childhood spirits.
Bells begin to ring,
Like the ones from
Years of yesterdays.
And what you did back then
Was let each snowflake–
Distinct and different,
Fall upon you
Like magic sprinkled on a dream.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
Being sad for me is an experience.
I don't know if it's different from how everyone else's
But I if it's just like your sadness then I'm so ******* sorry
Because sadness for me isn't feeling down or being weighed down by this feeling
It's like being on fire
But on the inside
It's like being stabbed by something that doesn't hurt
Then feeling this cold fire spread through my body
Like a wild fire being winded out by my thoughts
Or frostbites all over my body being thawed and frozen again
Being sad feels so heavy and prominent that I'm not even sure if my happiness is real
If it's really there
Or if it's just the a sense of sadness
I feel disgusted by myself whenever I fake a smile or a laugh or even saying "I'm ok"
I wanna cover my mouth with my hands every time someone ask me if I'm ok because I'm hard wired to say that I am
Being sad is already so ******* painful that I've grown up being used to keeping it in instead of telling people about it
Because I don't want to let anyone in
I don't want anyone to see the wildfire through my soul
I don't want them to see me frozen up
Because I'll hate myself either way
If they burn themselves up to thaw me out
I'll hate myself
If I drown them out when I douse this down
I'll hate myself
And if I saw them carry any part of my sadness to help me
I'll hate myself
I'm so hardwired to not let anyone in that I can't let anything out without destroying everything an everyone around me
Being sad for me is an experience.
I don't know if it's different from how everyone else's
But if you feel the same thing as me
What would you do?
What should I do?
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 6:53 AM UTC
Snow and cold may have given
aching bones, shivering body,
frostbites and numb states,
but deep inside
in my heart, in my soul
there is warmth
of a special kind,
a spring breeze
with a delicious touch,
for every snow-day
you hold me tight
and whisper those words
" I love you"
Polar Vortex can come
with all the snow it wants
but the fire inside
will never be out
you know.
Oh, my Johnny
I don't want snow to go,
for life will take
when spring wind blows.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
Craving the snow like a husky.
Pale and cold and melts on my touch--
I remember those ****** winters.
Through frostbites and numbness,
I would dearly hold it.
Each snowflake I touched made me shiver.
Each ball I made was perfect like a globe--
I saw the whole world in it.
And I never threw them; I kept them.
I never wanted to see you shattered nor dirtied.
Spikes ran through me when I saw you that way--
You should be pale and cold and melt on my touch...
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
There will be a day when
the storm will recede,
A day where the lucky stars,
They finally notice you
And grin, like a toddler
who receives his first gift.
The day will also come
when the summer wind,
Gently blows away frostbites
of last winter's doing.
And trust me when I say,
The seeds you sown in
that barren field,
They'll bloom,
into the most beautiful flower bed.
And all these happened, because you believed.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 7:13 AM UTC
When your danger was mistaken as adventure,
Causing frostbites to grow on my cementing heart,
It seemed my dull eyes developed disfiguring ulcers which tarnished my vision,
Because your lust was thought to be love.
While your manipulation was crowned as kindness,
My skin was being roughly tattooed with bruises and wounds,
It seemed my aura formatted from a cloud to a frigid speck of pathetic dust,
Because my submission was thought to be devotion.
While your destructive words seemed to be a gentle push,
I became trapped and forced,
While decaying poison was being injected within my fragile soul,
Because they labelled your control as being protective.
And now they call me cruel,
Inhumane and a monster,
When I don’t weep for their own ordeals,
When I don’t care about the pain they have experienced,
When I remain indifferent.
But I don’t mind,
Call me savage...ruined...changed...broken...nasty...
A monster?
Because I won’t and I don’t and I can’t
Feel one bit anymore.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
The heat of the cold sun
Burns frostbites into my skin
Icicles growing in the cave of my lungs
Breath a cigarette between trembling lips
And I wait
And I wait
The moon boils the waters
A deep purple neath my feet
The foam biting at my heels
And the night smothering my eyes
And I wait
And I wait
And when I still my heart and pulse
To drown within the forest
The world blows past my shoulders
And carries away my voices
Jun 12, 2021
Jun 12, 2021 at 6:18 AM UTC
We could be,
Anywhere in the world.
Walking the rain,
Watching the lights,
Exercising refrain,
Our heads in the sand,
And fingers in frostbites,
We could be,
Anywhere in the world.
And yet you find us,
Walking gingerly across,
A meadow of whites.
In peaks and plateaus,
Warm chocolate and cold toes,
On freezing Boston nights,
Thinking,
We could be,
Anywhere in the world.
Pretending,
That these castles we build,
On thin ice,
Will last till sunrise,
Far past when the seagull flies,
To remind you,
That we could've been,
Anywhere in the world.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 10:53 PM UTC
I decided to write
One last time
With icicles of ink
Sharpened words,
That slowly disperse
Every mean word said to me
I write
And I write
Every heartbreak
I let it flee with no fight
No tears,
Just raindrops,
No chills down my spine,
My heart devoid of fear
I take icicles of ink
I shove it in my heart
The words do not pierce,
They bleed from my pocket,
They spill,
Raw,
And pure
No frostbites
No frozen tears.
May 6, 2024
May 6, 2024 at 4:14 PM UTC
The ski outing
Went on a school trip inland I hated it we were skiing
I fell, in the ******* snow it was no joy the other boys,
laughed I would never forgive any of them.
My mother had given me some sarnies with cheese ate them before we arrived and later was sick of hunger
.
The ski fastening didn't fit, gave me ulcer on my left heel
I took the ****** ski off and hid them behind a hut
The teacher came he demanded I find ski and put them on
I refused and told him to get lost.
I was sent to sit on the bus it was icy with engine off, God
I despised every blasted moment of this, I'm not a team player and
don't find snow fun it is not a woolly blanket.
The other boys also came had frostbites and cried we left
the snowy hell, the bus now warm was I was human again
and plotted my revenge.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 3:57 AM UTC
(Spring)
So it was growing affection
(Summer)
So there was an interlude
(Autumn)
So with trees she fell
(Winter)
So he caused her frostbites for keeps from
his frost-filled heart holes from
a frost-bitten body just the same
(Spring)
So there was growing up
and there was moving on
(Summer)
So there was another interlude
and absence of affection
(Autumn)
So she noticed him again
and back was the unwanted phase
(Winter)
So he stayed the same as ever
and remained never sorry for her frozenness
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
He is confused they whispered with blood dripping from their teeth.
Feasting on the things he can't reach so he must starve himself or drown in whiskey and a packs of cigarettes
Bathing in the smoke
Everything is tasteless
He stiffer and cold with numbness to comfort the frostbites nibbling
Hanging from his nuise
He is just confused they growled
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 9:47 PM UTC
This is to the girls, whose playground heart became roadmaps of battle scars
To the girls whose butterflies were ripped apart by the touch of broken men's palms
The girls who hold the secrets of these withered men's minds in their offshore hearts
This is to the boys, who instead of counting sheeps are counting strokes as the violence spreads to their mothers thighs
To the boys, whose fathers never became men
The boys with black-eyed hearts, borrowed smiles and have become breathing dead; with their hearts wearing the violence like a hoody
This is to the homeless whose wealth is stacked in heaven
To the homeless man or woman, who never dreams
The homeless veterans who became slaves with frostbites in their veins
This is to the minds casting ballots on whether to leave
To the minds, who seem to be endlessly failing at sea
The minds with no shadow to keep them warm at night
Just
S.P.E.A.K
- Ola Bajo
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC
Not all men are the same
Some are men of the winter
those who have never tasted the spring,
whose hearts are like a cold abandoned
car drowned in middle of a freezing lake
for whom the northern lights is like sun
and icy breeze
often whispers to them slowly
to search for their hearts
and they embrace the lake,
the frostbites and the abandoned car
but never the spring
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 7:25 AM UTC
I learned that ice burns too
from the frostbites we gave each other.
Where my tongue got stuck
to the iron of the blood
gently flowing from open wounds
artfully lining our freezing mouths.
Just like children
licking a frozen stop sign
a warning so red it just screams
that all of this
might have started with
the gentlest of intentions,
but still ended up
with us both imploding
like forgotten frozen pipes.
Because the cold invading our guts
expanded for so long
that it was then impossible
to slow down the shattering
of this weird winterland
we failed to see our world was.
And when came the time
to take back my tongue,
to tell you that I could no longer
live with the forming stalactite
of our mixed, dripping,
bloodstained saliva
stabbing at my heart,
the warm breath I exhaled
did not agree with your cold one.
Two opposite winds collided
creating a perfect storm
effectively capturing my voice
in the bull's eye of my lips.
My words did not know
if they should still
attempt to break through
or stay, eyes closed,
in this artificial peace.
Maybe the bull's eye could be
a temperature controlled utopia
where the teeth marks in our cheeks
would fade overtime
and our guts wouldn't explode
and the stabbing at my heart would stop.
However, when I opened
the lashes of my words
like a winter forest being burned down
and our eyes met
like little red frightened creatures
we understood
and only ended up drowning
in a pond of our own melted tears.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC
I used to walk down the path to my home.
Lonely, cold, just like the norm.
The frostbites still hurt.
Until he touches my cold heart.
I fought battles on the field
And I fought the cold against my feels.
But I certainly couldn't fight
Someone that is in my love sight.
He's always been there, watching
Caring and talking about what I'm thinking.
He gave me a scarf he made.
Since then, my life changed by a shade.
And now I'm here, sitting next to my little vain.
With the shaky movements of the train.
His sleep sounds like blowing into a bullet shell,
It makes a good melody. With his cute face as well.
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 2:46 AM UTC