The cold has never been my friend.
She's just to much like me,
Biting and bitter 'till the end.
After constantly trying to keep her away
But sometimes, I'll let her in to stay.
I'll embrace my icy twin,
As her sharp wind
Bites through my soft skin.
I let her in
In my bones she buries herself deep within
so I can feel something
Something other than the searing fury,
Something other than the crushing disappointment
Something other than the maddening confusion.
The chill is so familiar,
Comforting to no end
I'm just not as lucky
As my never-born icy twin.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Doves and Their Pretty Corpses
PoesiaA collection of original poems, writings, and laments Hopefully cathartically relatable to those who read it, as you are not alone in this abyss. I am here too. Cover art by: Voidbug on IG
