Ice Cold
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A poem about mourning a loved one, not necessarily
a lover but any person close to one's heart.
A nice dark poem to kick off the week, please R/R!
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Ice cold skin, air condensed with tears,
Your frail, anguished whispers still echo in my ears,
Your life was but a fragile glass ornament;
Beauty without meaning, over your loss, I lament.

Ice cold eyes, on this starlit night, glistening,
And for that last goodbye, I am still listening,
Your soul is now lost in the fog of the dead,
You died without that rose; no blood, no red.

Ice cold heart, trapped in a mental cell,
Walls of pain, over which I constantly dwell,
The blade of Death's sithe has severed our link,
It's lethal dark edge, stained by rose red ink.

Ice cold loss, into the darkness you fall,
Into the swirling, clouded void, engulfing all,
The last warm embers of your flames are extinguished,
Now that your body, heart and soul are indistinguished.

Ice cold death, to die in physical indignation,
There is no end to my burning frustration,
You now dwell unconsiously with the other lost souls,
Without destination, there is no end, no goal...

By James Womack