The cold, the creeping temperature of loss and foreboding, creeping into my life within a moment’s thought. It defiles, uses, knows no bounds or given limits. It reeks, it cares for not a soul, yet is welcomed by some as the darkness greets the night.
I've felt the cold, around me, wanting me, wishing to invade my very soul but I deny such things. It’s not for me. Never has been, despite my shoulders bearing the brunt of its wicked grasp. I walk, I continue, but the muscles within my body tighten together as they give in to such things. I despise the cold, the empty freezing moments, yet still know its name from within my very heart.
We've all felt the moments. Those moments. The warmth surrounding you, bathing you, ensuring your survival but when you blink, for even a second, that feeling can be stolen. Replaced. The very warm air turning to form the breath of nothingness. The ice filled chill, the breath from your lungs, showing you the moment before you turn away.
We surround ourselves with warmth, bath our skin with the softest clothing, the deepest covering, trying to outstay such moments. Even in the brightest day you know that the blackest night is but a solitary notion away. Warm yourself. Warn yourself. Keep your body safe and soul alive. We are but puppets to the cold nature of the world. There is that sunshine, as mentioned, but no matter the warmth your soul can still be infected with the cold.
The iced nature of the few, infecting the many. The cold words meant for warmth, infecting the thoughts of all of us. Warmth requires energy, heat requires effort, whilst the cold revels within the death of a person’s emotions. To feel something, to hold something or someone, needs warmth. To betray, to chastise kind words, to truly abandon another’s worth, is but the stepping towards the vacant winter.
I feel the cold within, fighting me, wishing for me, to become something I never will. It begs me to consider a life of selfish desires. It asks me to place aside any emotional worth for others, in order to seize whatever or whomever I desire. I prey to never embrace that world, again. I ask for the fire within to rise up and denounce such thoughts. I beg for the mercy of my own bare-naked soul. I denounce a few of my thoughts. The cold moving life surrounding me, asks for more. I deny it. The weather in front of my eyes tempts my needs within the world. I again deny such notions.
We all live our lives within a majestic notion of mild perfection. We smile, we laugh, we hold the hands of the many while thinking of the few. We titter at the people frolicking through life, while knowing that we’re standing upon castles of glass. No matter what we do, no words that we say, can keep the warmth from escaping. We are born with bare skin and we will eventually fade towards that same place. Hold yourself, today, tomorrow, each and every single day. Find your warmth.
Find your warmth within every single word you think, speak or hear. Decry any mischievous people the words that may remove your fire. Roar within, be fierce, obey your needs, consider your wants, with each and every single day being the very breath of fire that threatens to consume you. Better to die burnt alive than to fade into the cold winter of nothingness.
I can feel the cold, right now, around me, within the very place I reside. It sleeps with me, within me, holding my very skin against its cold embrace. I deny its words, its whispering notions of coincidence. I know my thoughts, I can hear my own words, so I will continue to deny all notions of winter. It is not for my life. My thoughts. My dreams. My wishes or my lovers. It will never consume me, frighten me, or overcome my life.
The cold, the crawling temperature of loss and foreboding, creeping into my life within a moment’s thought. It defiles, uses, knows no bounds or given limits. It reeks, it cares for not a soul, yet is welcomed by some as the darkness greets the night. No more.