I shudder so hard to rid myself of
the creeping sensation of cold.
It is alright, I tell my fraught body,
You are warm now,
but the shuddering still persists;
goosebumps rise on my flesh.
You’re not cold, I insist,
You are alive, I think;
there’s breath
that’s left,
forcing its way
from lungs
to chest
out into the warm air;
That’s yours,
I try to reassure
my skin,
but it is still trembling,
cause I possess
a rare,
terrible talent for
living while dead
-
Author:
rebmasters (
Offline) - Published: September 21st, 2021 02:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
Offline)
Comments2
Great imagery.
Thank you x
this reads raw and unfiltered, but somehow still so relatable
love your poetic voice in this one, forthright and bold!
thanks for sharing, dear Poet
Thank you x
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