My Last Poem for You

The cold beneath,
steals my warmth into the ground, were it is held captive.
As I run from the wind beneath me,
finding the small comforts that shape my life.
The feelings I once had are no more then ash, until I read those words. We were evil.
Horrible and painful,
but we were also good,
and warmed each other through it all. Now we are nothing but ash on the ground,
with only the cold left.

Writen oct. 16th 2008 at 12:09pm