i don't want to be cold.
i don't want to shiver underneath my bedsheets,
don't want to tremble,
don't want goosebumps,
don't want to live by the heat of my breath.and yet, how silly it seems,
that each day i cursed the heat,
wishing for a blizzard,
demanding that the sun shut itself away.i didn't think it would really happen.
the sun has left me,
ignoring my outstretched hand,
walking away so leisurely,
leaving me to burn in an eternal cold.and with that,
everyone else has gone,
taking away my warmth,
running to catch up with the sun.i don't want to be cold,
but here i am,frozen over and splitting in half,
snowflakes falling from my eyes,
lips cracked and red,
blood against the blizzard..
i'm sorry.
[s.] angry love has come to an end.
YOU ARE READING
SUNRISE OF THE BUTTERFLIES
Poetryif only you could stay a little longer. (prose & poetry)