HELL IS COLD
Deluge of thoughts,
Fissured heart, depict
Your skewed companionship.
Now I am on board the ship of solitude,
Shore of quietude of heart bound, for freedom
From the serfdom of your sickly love.
But my solitude a symbol of hell you called and
For your absence, in loneliness you said I writhe.
If hell is no more watching you chortle in another
Bloke’s duvet and not being there any more to hearken
To your glib speech when you amble in at twilight
Then hell is cold.