Makes me think of...
icicles...
Sharp and piercing through
her soul...
A cold chill...
Blue lips...
Eyes..
Wide and unseeing...
Numbness.

Makes me think of...
A cold rain...
A deep ache...
Creeping up...
And taking hold...
Crimson rain...
Knowledge...
That...
It's...
Too...
Late...

Makes me think of...
Backwards day...
Loneliness...
Emptiness...
Loss...
Open viewing...
Casket...
Stale grave air...
The sound of far
off gunshots...

Makes me think of...
You...
Of hatred...
Of darkness...
Long winter nights...
Where nothing can survive...
Lines that skive...
The Reapers Scythe...
A block of ice...

God,
I
Cant...
Feel...
My...
Heart.