Poem: The Blank Verse

Endlessly alone, left to warm herself at night

But then he stirs, she was never alone, yet

She feels no warmth. She wonders why he

Stays when he cannot feel her warm skin either.

Love grown cold, leaves them restless at night like

A babe starved and cold, both wailing for attention

Yet the babe cries at loud, but neither does

Cry as they wait for the other to break the silence.

She tosses around, pulls the blanket and ah!

He groans and pulls for the polyester blanket.

She wins, he groans, she always wins. Love has gone

But hopelessly, they await for the tiniest flick

Of a rogue flame. Her body, maybe his, maybe

It has gone completely, neither want to admit

The touch of their skin is cold, harsh, uninviting.

His eyes are closed, his fingers numb, he is cold

And, God, he is too cold. A spark, not really, it

Is desperation. He turns, his front sees her back.

Her cold skin full of small bumps, just like his.

She feels his eyes, a spark, not really. She is unmoved.

His body shifts, she curses because she is tense now.

The spark is a lie, there’s no spark. Love is gone,

His arms around her bring her no warmth, and

Dammit, she does not warm his skin either. But

They lay there. Skin to skin, cold, their warmth not

Radiating. Still, another night goes, cold. No warm bodies.