The Cold

It’s cold, very cold,
snow’s falling faster than fast.
Ice is building atop the bridge,
not slower than the last.

My breath is cloudy
as it floats through the air.
My ears are red,
fingers frozen when bare.

I don’t like this feeling,
these feelings from past.
We’ve done this before;
though this seems to be our last.

My heart is breaking
yours is frozen and feisty.
Mine won’t stop aching
it seems you don’t like me.

We’ve been here before
not long in the past.
This isn’t the same though,
I know it’s our last.

Your stare is chilling,
right to the bone.
Your smile is cold,
and so is your tone.

It’s cold in here,
snow’s falling faster than fast.
Your ice starts toppling,
our bridge begins to crash.


*Note: Visit One Stop - Where Poets and Writers Meet and their One Shot Wednesday for poems & stories from others.
_