deepundergroundpoetry.com
Numbing Air
The days have grown colder
In the middle of December,
The burning sun’s beams
Shivered beneath the chills.
My body has grown frozen,
Ruby frost through my veins woven,
I could feel my bones
Nipped to the marrows.
I’ve grown empty,
The icy wind hollowed me,
Frigid to the core
With nothing but whistles of numbing air.
In the middle of December,
The burning sun’s beams
Shivered beneath the chills.
My body has grown frozen,
Ruby frost through my veins woven,
I could feel my bones
Nipped to the marrows.
I’ve grown empty,
The icy wind hollowed me,
Frigid to the core
With nothing but whistles of numbing air.
Published Yesterday
Author's Note
chattering teeth as we speak.
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