In the dark eve of the year, thoughts ponder of what is lost,
Life gently decays within the presence of frost.
Specters of older days continuously dwell within our planes,
Haunted by the past aches and love which we felt.
Despite my love for thee, forever shall I be trapped within these chains.
Darkness will echo through the home in which we dwelt.
Feelings of that we used to have, no longer felt anymore,
Thoughts and ardor have much slipped away into lonely shadows.
Only will thoughts of those traits be remembered within days of yore.
In the final days of ache and cold, listening to what bitterness foreshadows.
Memories are long gone, boiled away,
As thee is now gone, far from the anchor of life.
But never shall my love for thee decay.
Love shall remain strong within until mine mortality is cut by death’s knife.
YOU ARE READING
Shiver
Poetryꜱʜɪᴠ·ᴇʀ /ˈꜱʜɪᴠƏʀ/ ᴠᴇʀʙ (ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴏʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ) ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟᴀʙʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ. -- Short stories and poetry that heavily revolve around grief, death, and mental illness.
