Beautiful, Cold Love
Self-ish January prompt response.
I looked out my window this morning
and it’s not your regular winter day
it looks different, it feels different.
The cars are parked, and doors locked
no one seems to be going, or coming — a dead street.
We are all rolled up in blankets
scared of the unknown, it’s minus 18 degrees,
experience says it’s freezing outside, ice-cold.
The pain isn’t worth the pleasure of basking in snowflakes
but, it’s beautiful outside, I wish I could beat this!
This feeling reminds me of my dark fears
the ones I never talk about — the cold ones.
The fears of not loving enough, giving enough,
of pushing away the right one
of dying lonely and bitter, and buried in pain.
The fear of being me, in all my glamorous mistakes,
of living a life that seems perfect but isn’t true,
of living a lie and regretting it on my last days,
of not making amends with the ones I love,
of not loving with every inch of my soul.
