Saturday, April 19, 2025

Death...is a cold thing

 




What I need: 

  

    Heart bound. Chest to chest; 

Flesh upon my skin. 

      Sinking into the Solace. 


A love strong enough 

  To tend to a dying bird. 


  My soul, edged on the walk with death. 

   A freezing Hell. 


No chance after all, 

  All of Winter's blizzard 

     And a motherless Hen. 


Life chose this death. 


  Warmth erased from a heart, 

     Before it could ever greet 


         The Spring. 





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