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Permafrost
The winter breeze flows against my hair.
Standing on the black pier
as electricity dances across the sea.
As I watch the cold begins to seep into me,
and it refuses to leave me be.
Chills begin running down my spine
as the rain approaches from the horizon.
I could conjure sweaters and jackets anew
but they are unable to heat a select few.
Frozen coats and scarfs won't due
as the wind throws them to be soaked through.
My face starts to become fully numb,
but this is something I like to call fun.
My body reeks of ice,
and now fire won't even suffice.
Because thawing cannot embark
when your core has gone dark.
© Robert Taylor
Standing on the black pier
as electricity dances across the sea.
As I watch the cold begins to seep into me,
and it refuses to leave me be.
Chills begin running down my spine
as the rain approaches from the horizon.
I could conjure sweaters and jackets anew
but they are unable to heat a select few.
Frozen coats and scarfs won't due
as the wind throws them to be soaked through.
My face starts to become fully numb,
but this is something I like to call fun.
My body reeks of ice,
and now fire won't even suffice.
Because thawing cannot embark
when your core has gone dark.
© Robert Taylor
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