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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I wake up in the morning and everyone around me is dreaming of good old times and future smiles. I move around, almost floating like a Phantom and I stand in the middle of the hallway, and the carpet tickles my feet and I can't help but giggle inside. The lights are off and the windows all open, a gust of wind blows through knocking things over and turning the atmosphere upside down, and I start to shiver and my teeth start to chatter. It's cold! I say, it is cold, I feel all alone, in the cold no one around to warm me up, no hot chocolate, no warm milk, no jacket or a hat- not even a scarf to keep my neck warm, nothing... It's cold and I have a headache now, dancing to beating drums inside my head, and I can't make the party stop up there, in that vase place of darkness and imagination; but I try to sing along to the whispering winds that sound like the ghosts of dead coming back for one last kiss, I sing along with the walling winds, and suddenly the cold goes away and I start to warm up to the situation at hand. Pictures in the sitting room are on the ground, glass shattered everywhere, and the fireplace with a dying fire still going- till the gust of wind comes back to end its last flame. I sit on a ran-sacked sofa, ripped and the cushions bleeding out, the springs jump up and poke me in the butt, and I can hear the silent footsteps of boots clamping here and there over in the foyer footprints of ghosts' boots that trailed along in snow appear to me and I stop and wonder what has come of me. The Cold comes back and straightens me in and pushes me down and cools me off- thinking too much- stop it! The Cold Blues gets you sometimes, and it's unbearable to live with them. .1.25.2014.
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