Sometimes it is easier to feel the veins wilted and empty than to sense the coldness of blood in fear
No past to make us sentimental, no future to embarrass us…a difficult moment when you are out of practice – a moment that makes you go cold, cold and wary.
You are alone,
You speak back to silence.
People call it loneliness,
You call it solitude,
Meaning the same pain.
I’ve had enough of these streets that sweat a cold, yellow slime, of hostile people, of crying myself to sleep every night. I’ve had enough of thinking, enough of remembering.
A warm dead photograph is much livelier than a living cold reality!
They were both at such an age that they stood on a cusp. They could think in one part of their minds that their whole lives stretched out before them without boundary or limit. At the same time another part guessed that youth was about over for them and what lay ahead was another country entirely, wherein the possibilities narrowed down moment by moment.
You’ve got to get cold to get warm,
It was cold and barren. It was no longer the view that I remembered. The sunshine of her presence was far from me. The charm of her voice no longer murmured in my ear.
If you venture to be a sage
Let your virtues subside your rage
For deep wisdom you’ll be venerated
Let cold veins feel blood cells generated
Don’t complain it’s too cold now if you also intend to whine about how hot it is when summer comes. It’s just hypocritical.