Cold chills permeate your whispers,
like arctic winds, heavy with frost.
Your icy words freeze me, give me shivers,
and in this winter storm I am lost.
As you kill me, word by word,
each cuts me like an icicle pick.
I know now that I was absurd,
to cling to hope, naivety makes me sick.
Now, frostbitten and bloodied,
my moribund heart starts to fail.
Past and present, I should have studied,
for then I would know, hope rarely prevails.
-
Author:
moribundmind (
Offline) - Published: October 27th, 2021 07:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 29
Offline)
Comments2
Only at the end does it all seem clear, sadly that's always too late.
Well written, well crafted tale of woe upon loves ending.
Time will do it's healing thing and wisdom will grow.
Welcome to mps with your fine first posting. We're a friendly bunch and like to comment on one anothers postings gaining friendships as we go. please feel free to comment upon any of the rubbish i post on here.
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