I run my fingers across razor sharp hints of frost <br />The first signs of cold <br />sliced across trees by raging violent wisps. <br />Thin slivers of blood shimmer down the crystalline <br />coat of winter desolation <br />as these wounds gleam with crimson vengeance, cruel and empty. <br />Spatters of angry, scarlet disappointment gathering <br />in the pristine emptiness of this icy wasteland. <br />I do not feel this, I am numb to it. <br />To me, it is a gentle lock of your hair laying across <br />the soft rise of your collar bone. <br />I feel the passionate burning fire of your breath against <br />my neck. <br />Still I have questions that these lonely trees cannot answer. <br />I lay down in the cold, <br />entangled in their ancient, deceitful roots <br />wishing they would provide me with answers. <br />But they only stare blankly <br />their sap laden mouths frozen, gnarled, <br />and silent <br />These are questions only you can answer.<br /><br />Charles Darkly<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/frostbitten-5/
