the season that preys

in poetry •  7 years ago 

...cold froze
the veins in my house &

it sits, skeleton
bare to the elements.

i lie inside it's battered skin
digested by the chill.

weather knocks on its eyes
waiting to come in, wanting

to feel the heat
from its heart pumping

murmurs
trying to keep up.

my feet burn
in the 14 degree air.

i exchange promises
to keep from hypothermia.

even in my blankets
i feel i am not safe

from the black discoloration
of dying flesh

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I love how you personified the house - it battles the harsh cold outside. Similarly, you are in your house battling the cold within the house.