I’ve got a chill
I can’t shake.

From the middle,
it radiates,
hellish hurts,
searing words,

and then

the towers
in my heart sway.

Mortar cracks,
and falling trestles
all break away.

One thing,
an old oak beam,
is a wooden crutch.
Cracked, it rattles,
but it’s the last

remaining brace.

The ice slips
down the mountain,
frozen geysers
and frozen fountains

are like fangs.

They rip at the
heart’s housing,

cracked asunder,
by the earth’s shuddering

whimpers and bangs.

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2020.

2 thoughts on “Freezing

  1. (I was just enjoying this and thinking of you when you liked one of my posts; happy to be connected like that for a moment in time. Goodnight, old friend and mentor. 🙂)

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