It's cold.
I stare into starless skies
Waiting for the first imminent snowflake to fall
An icy chill to warm me
Frozen
Like the tear in my eye
Refusing to fall
As I have fallen
Tormented souls from the past
Clamor beneath
Arms upraised
Ready to catch me in my final swansong
Victory in my demise
Beautiful Lady,
With faces three,
I cannot find you in the starless sky
You were there under the thunder moon
When I wasn't looking
I found you
Face of finest porcelain
Features neatly chiseled to perfection
The epitome of grace
Engraved in resplendent memory
Ah, my curly haired friend,
I never knew your name
I searched for you too
To no avail
Seeking comfort in your presence
Wisdom from your words
You stay distant and removed
I am alone
The first snowflake falls
Outstretched hand waiting
The tiniest sting of ice
And it melts into nothingness
Too synonymous of my life
I think I'll go inside and pretend it's warm
Copyright 2004 Nightwing
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/2541/29494 on Monday December 01st, 2008 11:20 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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