Not a warmth, a cinder.

Image

I put myself in this stairwell,
No shoes, no skin, no fears, no heat.
I am as cold as you made me.
“Chill of circumstance”, you say.
“Under the same sun”, I say.

Bold as I am, yes.
Cold as I am, yes.
No courage to walk away.
I wish for heat, no.
I wish to flee, no.

I am bound by the passim of your touch.
It scatters warmth.
Just to keep me alive.
Not enough to rouse me from this comatose.

This static,
This hunger,
This empty longing,
Just enough to make me think…
You’re the reason I’m breathing.

Advertisements

About lucaszuniga

Aspiring artist and seeker of all relevant truth.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s