(no subject)

[tiny_sparrow]

Screech, moan, shudder
A chill clings to the window
A chill clings to me
It creeps under the doorway
Over the golden haired Persian rug,
Past the white marble staircase,
Up around the crystal chandelier.
Weaving, ducking, creeping, lurking
All around this algidus house.
It shudders, it mutters,
It moans.
It sings its agonizing funeral song.
It’s dying, it’s dead.

My love left me in shambles.
His voice echoed treason.
He stole it all,
Not a drop of love, happiness, life remains.
The knife still stays planted in my back.
It grows, it grows!
Oh how the infection grows!
It’s chill clings to the window.
It’s chill clings to me.
How it chokes, beats, and stabs my lungs.
Till I fall to the floor gasping for air.
Oh but it does not afflict only me!
It’s spread to the house,
The yard,
The street,
The city,
The world.
My eyes no longer see in colors
Only in a solitary shade of gray.

It grows, it grows!
It starts at my fingers,
Then continues to my toes.
It’s icy needle pricks numbing me,
Numbing and killing that is,
Numbing and killing.
My heart would have felt like ice,
Providing I could feel at all.

It’s dying, it’s dead.
My love left me in shambles.
It’s dying it’s dead.
My heart grows colder
It’s dying, it’s dead
The chill ducks and weaves and creeps and lurks,
Across the dirty promise rings,
The tear stained rags,
The roasting love letters,
My heart’s dying, it’s dead.