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Moments of cold haunt me.
It is 1am. I sit at my desk
(watch your posture, child)
erect, wearing a simple white tank top. there is
little light in my room, only from a desk lamp and you
know as well as I that those aren't very bright anyway.
(measly 40 watts, sweetie)
My only company is the wind, which
howls outside, pressing hard, furiously at
the closed panes.
The shades shake.
My desk rumbles.
And I feel it.
An icy breeze swirls about my bare shoulders and I shudder.
I am alone.
Moments of cold haunt me, and even though it's
easy to make light and laugh
(brush them off, heart!)
somehow... it's not. there's a nagging feeling that it
shouldn't chill so
disconcert so
perhaps even frighten so.
So I turn and look behind me, but I see
nothing there. and I turn and look to my side and see
(silly girl)
nothing there.
Am I delusional?
Naah, I mutter to myself, and shake out my discomfort.
Moments of cold haunt me, and I find myself looking
out
the window for.. something. The night
(ah...lovely night!)
is so pretty! The stars gleam, like silver sand spilled on Mother’s
cobalt canvas. How it glitters! So beautiful! At once fiery
(burn, baby, burn)
and yet so cold. So distant. So lonely.
So much like people, in ways.
Perhaps that’s what stars are. Cold, glittering
remnants
(sparkle sparkle "ding!")
of souls, bright and vibrant in life, now frozen in time and space, like
etherized butterflies pinned writhing on an entomologist’s table.
Distant, but close, reaching and missing, swimming futilely, mutely
in an icy blackness that sends breezes into the night.
(yeah, those breezes)
Don't I know a couple of them??
Moments of cold haunt me, and I sit at my desk
(good girl)
erect, waiting...
I want to be the breeze. I want to cry for them with
tears of air.
And so I reach out my arms and close my eyes.
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