The Soldier's Hound and Other Poems - Warmth

Always so kind.

How can it be?

My mind desires skepticism.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxpF0cSKzij

But I just go blind,

Whenever I see,110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsjLjs4USsV

What you think I can be.

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I can tell by your actions,110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUKKP1R3S8X

And by how you treat others.

In my heart, it sounds Klaxons.

Do I ask now,

I wonder,

Or never ask at all.

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Do you yet hold another,

The way I was never held?

So dear to your heart.

In that warmth so precious.

The warmth of which my cold heart has known so little

—And for more so yearns?

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Or do you feel the cold,

And the pain,

Of isolation and despair?

Wandering, ever so lonely?

Freezing amidst the howling winds,

Without the warmth of another?

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I desperately want to inquire.

Yet, the mere prospect petrifies me.

As my heart turns to stone,

And I sleep all alone.

This frostbitten soul resides in me,

Frozen to the bone.

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Are you lonely as well?

Yearning for others,

Freezing to death?

But how would I know,

If you suffer as I do?

Always alone.

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Even in the midst of a crowd,

With hundreds of people,

I am alone.

Forced smiles.

Happy lies.

I exude both to hide the pain.

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And this fear,

That I will sleepwalk through life,

Never alive,

Yet not quite dead,

With my blood frozen still,

Trapped in my veins,

Pining for warmth.

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Do you love your lot in life?

Or is hatred for it,

Hidden silently,

Ever still?

Have you a lust for life?

Or do you yearn for death?

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And if for death you yearn,

How can I stop it?

Remove its icy claws from your throat?

It’s you,

I must resuscitate!

Please don’t choke!

Please don’t croak!

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Were you to die,

All would weep!

Or should weep,

At the least.

But were I to die,

Who would mourn me?

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All these questions,

The knowledge I lack,

Keeps me up in the middle of the night.

They are turning and twisting within me,

Like a fiery blade,

As insomnia delays sleep’s sweat reprieve.110Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡApxStjJKL1

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