Haunted and Daunted

Oh, the silent whispers.
Words of bitter cold.
The icicle breath pricks the soul.
I find myself frozen.
The words they so soothingly bring me down.
Here I lay still.
Wandering amid this bittersweet ambiance.
The whispers let me sway away into it.
Entrapped.
The ever-flowing coldness
That everlastingly remains within.
The skin creeps, the mind sighs, the heart cries.
Oh, sweet sorrow.
I feel it now swell.
It dwells, so shallowly full.
A wallowing fear.
Haunted.
Daunted.

By: Amara Van Orden