Cold

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Cold

It's not the throbbing headache that bothers me.
The loss of appetite or
How tired I feel and look in the mirror.
It's not that my voice is used so little that
It rasps when I finally talk or
The fact that I'm constantly dizzy.
It's the way I shiver
From head to foot.
The goosebumps.
I'm chilled to the bone.
Chilled to the heart.
No matter how long my shower or
How hot my tea.
The feeling is unphased.
Aren't I always the warm one?

I'm missing what warms my heart.

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Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

CNS’s Poems (60)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Possibilities 1
Sweater Weather 0
Morning Light 0
100 Miles 0
Falling Short 0
Hot Bath 0
Enchanting 0
Driving Off Again 0
Too Pretty 1
Regret 0
Trials of a Hipster 0
Running on Empty 0
October 25th, 2013 0
School Tricks 0
Lifeguard 0
Benevolence 0
Backbone 0
Haunted (in September) 0
Reflection IV (Midnight Musings) 0
Chipped 0
I Give Up 0
Spell It Out 0
Out of Sight Out of Mind 0
Reflection III 0
Reflection II 0
Aflame 0
Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy 0
False Impressions 0
(You Can't) Turn Back Time 0
Reflection I 1
Someone's Missing 0
Casual 0
Vertical Truth 0
Nineteen Minutes 1
Momentary Elegance 0
Voicemail 0
"You were the best thing that's ever happened to me." 0
Pet Peeve 0
Oregon Coast 0
fin 0
Sun Lakes 0
Writer's Block 0
Holding On 0
(No longer) Drowning 0
Est-ce que je suis perdue? 0
Traces 0
Written in the Stars (it seems) 0
TV 0
Sandtimer 0
Things 0
Missing You 0
Missing You 0
A rose by any other name... 0
Crutches 0
Cold 0
Thursday, May 23rd 0
Let it Be 0
Black Ink 0
Treasure Map 0
Diverging 0

CNS’s Friends (1)