November chills me,
leaves veins of frost
on my soul.
I wrap up tight,
it does no good.
A gulp of whiskey,
warms the vocals.
But the ice
just stays inside.
I'll just wander
and meander.
The streets
and leave my breath.
The fire and sparkle
behind the grey doors
is so enticing,
although it's what I left.
I chose this life. Found,
It's hard rewinding now.
If you'll only find me.
My pride still
anaesthetic,
to my heart.
YOU ARE READING
Happier a little sad.
PoetryThe book title poem, happier a little sad is a reflection of when find that if I am totally carefree, which isn't very often! That I do not get any inspiration for writing poetry. I wrote this poem that explains it. *********************************...
