Sana Olivia Hernandez
My skin prickles.
I can't feel my fingertips.
I am cold.
Either it's the temperature.
Or I'm dying,
Or I'm old.
I can feel the chill in my bones.
I'd be crazy to eat an ice cream cone.
Or so I'm told.
It seems nice outside.
I'd like to go,
Play in the snow.
But I can't.
I have a cold.
I'd hug to stay warm,
Or accept your homemade soup.
I'd let your love warm me up.
But I refuse.
My heart is too cold.
As you can see,
Cold has manifest mastery.
It comes in many forms.
In you and in me.
God, I'm cold!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Cold by Sana Olivia Hernandez )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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