Here I am, standing here with my lack of warmth. People say I have soft hands, but a cold touch. My search for heat is not my fault, I’ve gone this far without any glow, any brightness. Warm skin, maybe that’s what I seek; a loving hand to caress my iced tips, an embrace to shed the sleet covering my heart, the love that can assuage a damaged man.
Fingers run through my hair, tense muscles fail to contract. Why am I letting my guard down? Is this the heat I failed to neglect? Like an animal to flame, I’m timid and wary, but eventually give in to a much needed slumber.
I try to hold you closer, wanting more of that heat, more of that comfort, maybe too much of it. I want to feel your touch, your warmth, your skin. An instinct to keep you closer, to thaw my hidden desires.
Too much, this is too much for me. Too painful, this is too painful for us. Too cold, this is too cold for you.
Letting go, the aching heat lingers in my heart. I lash out, in an effort to not let icicles flow down my cheeks. Now I notice you too, your warmth is tainted, fooled by a cracked sculpture, one you thought could be fixed.
Here I am now, standing here with a burning memory of warmth, My soft hands timid to touch again. My search for heat is my undoing, as I melt away without the presence of you. Warm skin is what I sought, but now it is only peace.
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2 replies on “A Cold Soul”
In the chill of your touch, I sensed a longing,
Soft hands yet so cold, a paradox unfolding.
Your quest for warmth, a journey untold,
Seeking solace in arms, in love to enfold.
Through your hair, my fingers roam,
Yet your muscles remain tense, a silent tome.
Why do you let your defenses wane?
Is it the heat you’ve sought in vain?
I feel your desire to pull me near,
To bask in the warmth, to allay every fear.
But perhaps it’s too much for you to bear,
The pain, the coldness, the despair.
As you release your grip, I feel the ache,
The lingering warmth, the heart’s earthquake.
I see now, your warmth tainted by strife,
A broken sculpture, a shattered life.
Here you stand, with memories burning bright,
Your hands hesitant, your soul taking flight.
Your search for warmth, your undoing, alas,
Leaving you adrift in a sea of glass.
Yet in the silence, in the peace you seek,
May you find solace, may you find your peak.
For warm skin was your quest, but now, my dear,
It’s peace you yearn for, with every tear.
I like your response to my poem! It feels like the “other side” of the perspective given in the original poem, which helps in amplifying the story as a whole.
Thank you so much for your comment!