A/N: I know poetry is not my style, originally this was a fiction piece... but it worked better as a poem.

Also, if you've submitted a review to any of my pieces, please visit my profile and click on the link there, because, yes, I have something to say to you.


. a . s h a d e . O F . p u r e .

. . . a . P O E M . . .

The entire world has turned from shades of yellow, orange, and red

into a drab black and white picture.

I bend to pick up a handful.

The cold matches my heart, yet I do not feel it.

How many times have I looked up into the blue sky and wished

that I could grab some of the colorful cheeriness

and stick it somewhere in my life?

The same is with the snow I've gathered in my hands.

I wish I could keep it, in a jar somewhere, so I can hold it just as I am now,

and pretend I'm white…

clean.

The fluffy white is a shade of pure

that I haven't felt in months.

It melts off my skin.

I cherish it in my palm,

urging it to stay.

But it disappears,

dripping onto the frozen ground.

The remains that are clinging to my fingers

soon turn into steam in the cold January air.

And it's gone.

A yellow orb has risen in the sky since dawn

I've watched it.

It casts an eerie glow over everything.

It is what melts the snow, but I want it to stay.

My hands stay cupped

I look up at the glaring sun.

How many times have I wished I could reach up

and gather sunshine in my fingers?

so I can splash it onto my heart

and melt the sheet of ice that has covered it since the summer

How can the warmth of the sun turn the snow into water

but yet my heart stays frozen?