The Cold Felt After Hours
Deftly you travel,
Be it ice or air,
Through atmospheric panels,
And liquid guard rails,
Days with no beginning,
Seasons with no end,
From the moment you began skating,
To the second I turned my head,
Own eyes lock indefinitely,
You leave your arms outstretched,
While mine entwine instinctively,
My callousness leaves you disheartened,
So you break our gaze,
And I return to my blindness,
Yet even as I'm cold-blooded I require a heating brace,
A signal, a spark from a single smile's brilliance,
For without water surely I will wither,
Without air surely I will suffocate,
And without sustenance surely I will suffer,
But without warmth I will be forced to abdicate,
My irreplaceable sight,
And my ability to write.
Copyright © Michael Zavaletta | Year Posted 2016
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