deepundergroundpoetry.com
- - - COLD - - -
Here in the dead of summer
I am cold
Cold to the touch
Cold in the heart
When two hearts cease their beating
I am cold
Cold as the such
Things in the dark
... the crumbs between my feet ...
Frail as the brittle roots
Irony, calamity
Scarce as the dying truth
Forgotten the tragedy
... just like a passing breeze ...
Cooling rains never return
I'm still cold
Cold as a stone
Cold as the day
When prayers fall on deaf ears
I am cold
Cold to the bone
Dead in the grave
... the ghost in the bottle ...
Sweet poison in the glass
KillIng the anomaly
Like a ghost in the past
Enthralled in its misery
... never to sleep again ...
The tattered flesh
Tells the story
Of a man
And suffering
That's looking up
To empty skies
Searching for
Just one meaning
To wasted days
That's so far gone
Tormenting
My last passing
... passing, failing ...
... just like always...
Here in the dead of summer
I am cold
Cold to the touch
Cold in the heart
When two hearts cease their beating
I am cold
Cold as the such
Things in the dark
... the crumbs between my feet ...
Frail as the brittle roots
Irony, calamity
Scarce as the dying truth
Forgotten the tragedy
... just like a passing breeze ...
(c) 2015 Frank Green
I am cold
Cold to the touch
Cold in the heart
When two hearts cease their beating
I am cold
Cold as the such
Things in the dark
... the crumbs between my feet ...
Frail as the brittle roots
Irony, calamity
Scarce as the dying truth
Forgotten the tragedy
... just like a passing breeze ...
Cooling rains never return
I'm still cold
Cold as a stone
Cold as the day
When prayers fall on deaf ears
I am cold
Cold to the bone
Dead in the grave
... the ghost in the bottle ...
Sweet poison in the glass
KillIng the anomaly
Like a ghost in the past
Enthralled in its misery
... never to sleep again ...
The tattered flesh
Tells the story
Of a man
And suffering
That's looking up
To empty skies
Searching for
Just one meaning
To wasted days
That's so far gone
Tormenting
My last passing
... passing, failing ...
... just like always...
Here in the dead of summer
I am cold
Cold to the touch
Cold in the heart
When two hearts cease their beating
I am cold
Cold as the such
Things in the dark
... the crumbs between my feet ...
Frail as the brittle roots
Irony, calamity
Scarce as the dying truth
Forgotten the tragedy
... just like a passing breeze ...
(c) 2015 Frank Green
Published 3rd Jun 2015
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Anonymous
4th Jun 2015 2:32am
Sir Hades, another brilliant piece to add to my darkened collection. I can relate strongly to this piece simply because I AM cold to the touch even in the summer. Isn't that just amusing?. . .xoxo, Devlin;)
4th Jun 2015 2:42am
