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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1527082-Cold
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #1527082
A short poem about being brought back from your memories.
Cold.
So cold.
Dark, so dark and empty.
Where am I? Is anyone here?
Who am I speaking to?
Is it me speaking?
Or am I thinking?

A light.
A bright light?
A hand? Is this my hand?
No.
It’s his isn’t it? I’m here again.
This place. Filled with memories and emotion.
So heavy and thick, it’s suffocating.
Painfully so.
Why am I here again? What do you want this time?

A forearm.
His arm.
Scared.
Bruised and dirty.
How much forgotten blood is upon that hand?
I doubt any person knows.
I doubt you even know yourself do you? Though what does it matter?

An elbow, followed by the arm.
Bare flesh reaching out to mine.
My hand?
It clenches?
It’s seems a normal reflex.
Is it?

Blood.
Red, red blood runs down the arm.
It flows between each finger. He’s hurt?
I try to reach to help.
His eyes.
Those impassive eyes catch me.
Frozen, I only stand, or lie, I’m not sure.
He comes closer, whispering.
Always whispering.
His ice cold voice wrapping it’s sharp words around my mind.
I stiffen. My body no longer known to my consciousness.

Blood.
More blood. From me?
No.
From him?
My eyes can not close, despite the heaviness from the pressure of his presence and the memories flooding my mind.
He comes again.
Closer, closer.
I only watch.
Closer, closer.
Then, a voice.
A loud voice speaks out.
Where from? I do not know.
Whose?
I can hear it.
It’s strong.
Stronger than yours. But it’s not yours is it?
It’s his.
He’s come to bring me back. I can hear him.
His voice is so clear, calling my name.
That’s where I want to go.
To him.
Not here with you. Let me go.
He’s there.

So numb.
So cold.
Come my love, take me back.
Please.

His eyes.
Still fixed on me. Let me go.
The voice, his voice, becomes louder.
The blood disappears.
The arm, the hand, the fingers.
The eyes.

A light.
Feeling.
My body. It’s held by him.
His voice in my ears. So close, so strong.
The suffocating pressure, gone.
He’s here.
Strength back in my limbs. I hold him too.
Exhausted.
His eyes.
I meet his eyes. Loving and warm.
I am finally free.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1527082-Cold