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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2024916
Frigid is the air that breathe
Frigid is the air that breathe—
The mask hides the face, but again it’s too cold,
Too cold for anything but death.

Rigid is my body—
The white sheet covers me, but again it’s too cold,
Too cold to rise for a breath.
© Copyright 2015 L. R. Gratton (synister_79 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2024916-Frigid