chill

Cold Hands, Warm Heart!

she said,

and I thought her adorable

and naïve.

I could only think of cold hearts

who by sacrificing others

to their selfish little fires

always managed to keep their own

hands warm.

Years later, with cold hands,

I write

and type

and click

and think

back over all the people

all the days and nights,

shared friendship,

most of which was sacrificed

so the “friend” could stay warm.

Now I sit in the chill air,

regretting having trusted,

and wishing I could tell her now,

that she was right all along.

And she was a rarity,

One of the only ones like me

I ever knew.

Our hands are often cold,

but we don’t feel it.

What we feel is in the heart,

and the loss of those who once shared it.

NB


All words, works, writings, photos, and art contained on this blog are the creation and sole intellectual property of Nicholas Biddle. They may not be used or reproduced in any way without the express consent of the author, and proper (legal) credit given to the author.


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