Cold

 

 

Cold is the sad distance between stars

The lonely feeling from what you care for

 

Cold is the temperature of what is missing

The lack of warm affection by a source of life

 

Cold falls upon you when you are far away

The bitter reality of your absence from me

 

Cold is the sensation of what my body can’t stand and unsatisfied needs for you

 

The opposite of a fire that ignites my joy

And the frozen sensation that cuts my skin

 

Beneath my clothes invading my flesh

Torturing bones till they break into pieces

 

Cold is the thief that robs my hands and feet

The plagiarism of favorable seasons turn frosty

 

Cold inspires my disdain and fuels my misery

The prejudice of angry insecure mobs

 

Who reject, riot and rebel against humanity

And threaten to destroy all that brings us together.

 

Copyright © 2022 Charles Edward York

No part of this poem may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or form or by any means electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the author.*