Dreams begin in a cold, blank space
Poet’s edition
I lay down upon the crisp landscape, my breath cloud visible in the frigid air. I could stay here forever, and be truly happy.
I love the cold.
The stillness it brings.
The quiet crackling feeling of nature that in vain, resists the distilling of its core creation, locked in between life and death—it is shown encased in ice and powder white, a beautiful whisper of its incoming mortality coming to an end.
I love how the blue inside of me is recreated in the crunchy, slick, sweet winter air. It tastes like an old dream that turned into a sweetly sick nightmare I still adore. The lighter the blue, the deeper I fell.
I know my life will be coming to an end too. Soon, that ship will carry me away, and I will also cease to be.
I saw him—-I remember his eyes. The glistening, desperate warmth of his gaze stricken by fear and longing. It strikes in my heart like a golden, spiraling stake, as fervent, glowing and majestic of a feeling as the way the cold created inside of me.
He kisses me over and over like a replaying storm, the soft rain turning into a sheet of ice, blanketing me as my heart’s red turns so deeply, darkly, sweetly
Blue.
—-
The original.
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Comments (1)
"I love how the blue inside of me is recreated in the crunchy, slick, sweet winter air. It tastes like an old dream that turned into a sweetly sick nightmare I still adore. The lighter the blue, the deeper I fell." I especially loved this part!