Cold, Cold, Love

Photo by Kristopher Roller on Unsplash
Photo by Kristopher Roller on Unsplash

Fingers entwine like November branches,
The chill offering pleasurable release;
There’s no benefit to being overly warm.
We swish amongst the decadent leaves
Raining down in shades of gone:
Ah, the bliss of the festering mind. 
A moment in the meadow is a lifetime on the sea;
Translucent waves like polished glass
Revealing only an inverse night. 
The hole looms like a collapsed bed,
And I can’t wait to draw the obsidian sheets high. 
A raven rattles a warning, or a joyful dirge,
Flapping wings to dispel the buzzing bats;
They’ve already consumed the flies.  
She bends low like an avalanche 
Destroying all I’ve ever known, been, seen.
I welcome it, her, this unmarked legacy, 
One colder than my heart. 
The impossible shades of an afterlife found
Embrace this shell and pop out a nutlike soul. 
And though I wish to scream ‘come back’
She spins a maelstrom, shifting time and tide for me,
Only for me, always for me, as she ever has and ever will.
For though our cold, cold love is abhorrent to most,
The universe has just gained two more stars.

Thank you for reading

Richard M. Ankers
Author of the brand new steampunk extravaganza Britannia Unleashed.


9 thoughts on “Cold, Cold, Love

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