“Fear strikes in vulnerable places”

Inside…

the touch, frighteningly soft like white

bear rugs that accent deer mantels in luxury lodges.

Strikingly cold, yet warmed when fingers

run through fibers of fine fur.

 

Outside…

stars twinkle through bay windows

And puffs of smoke rise above rooftops.

Frozen branches glisten with snow--

the picture is as simple as it is complex.

 

Internally…

two voices echo one another as

shadows collide under unobtrusive lights.

Embracing the idea, but challenging the concept--

fatal aftermath.

 

Externally…

time melts with the capsule buried

66 inches under the foot of man.

Seasons change, grounds thaw.

Only brute strength and a shovel

can extract year s of memories from rotten soil.

 

Why spoil being frozen when hearts can thaw

in the dead of winter?

fearfully frozen

A plethora of emotions

filling space in an empty cabin.

The ancient stove is running,

but bitter cold eats bugs

while killing engines in the streets.

Icicles of symmetry line the eves—

touching one another slightly,

adding weight, and causing friction

as they fall.

 

In bed, cuddling up with blankets,

but never feeling warmth.

The TV glares at a single shadow

who tunes out words that jumble together.

Thinking, but not writing,

Dreaming, but not breathing.

Feeling, but not acting.

Dead like the souls in the cold,

but awakened to the silence in the street.