You impale me with icicles
that protrude from your cold,
chapped lips as they open
wide and you scream at me.
I've never been a fan of the cold.
Your hugs, your kisses,
your broken promises.
Cold, cold, cold.
And I bundle myself up,
in an effort to not catch
your cold, but it's impossible.
Forget winter, it's your
frozen heart that's got
me shivering.
I'm frozen in place, words
solidifying on my tongue,
muscles covered in ice,
Feet frosted to the floor.
I've never been a fan of the cold.
But I find my strength,
and I leave your igloo.
And your tense hugs,
and your nasty kisses,
and your broken promises,
I am no longer cold, cold, cold.
YOU ARE READING
recycled poetry
Poetry❝i wish i was writing something special, but these words have been used before and there's no originality to it at all. i'm just reusing phrases until they're worn out, like musty library books or hand-me-down clothes.❞ from ❛hand-me-down poetry❜ i...
