DEBORAH  SIMPSON  Spiritualist Author 
Fire to Ice 05/08/2009
 

“I love you,” he said
As the bane of a desolate eve churned –
“I love you,” I spoke in return
His response ran blank –

Preparing.

“Today is today,” he offered
Cold fire brushed my inner skin –
“And tomorrow is nil,” I delivered
Through sullen speak –

Understanding.

“Moments are fleeting,” he whispered
Under the shrill reality of day –
“Supposedly,” I jested
With frozen tongue –

Knowing.

“I think of you,” he stabbed
With blades of ruthlessness –
“Lovely thoughts,” I choked
As I crawled inside of me –

Finality.

 

(c) Deborah Simpson 2006-2010 All Rights Reserved