The Quiet Cold
This world is cold,
Colder than the touch of a shadow,
Colder than the silence after goodbye.
I feel nothing,
Not the warmth of love,
Not the sting of hate—
Only the empty, endless gray.
I wish I cared like others do,
But I don't.
I can't.
I've forgotten how.
Memories slip through my hands like sand,
Moments I should have held close,
Now gone,
Now ghosts.
Everything fades.
Happiness is a flicker,
A cruel, fleeting light.
And when it's gone,
The dark is colder than before..
Maybe there's somewhere else,
Somewhere warmer than here,
But I don't know how to reach it.
Maybe I'll stay,
Or maybe I'll just disappear.
For now, I am nothing.
I am the breath that vanishes on glass.
I am the ashes the wind forgot.
I am the quiet,
And I am the cold.
YOU ARE READING
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PuisiStep into the vibrant mind of a poet and writer, where creativity knows no bounds. Dive into the joy of storytelling through poetry, where each verse offers a glimpse into unique perspectives and untold tales. Let yourself be drawn into the visual s...
