Cold


Madeeha Majid

Winter left days ago,
but somehow the cold still lingers.
With the breeze that blows:
what’s left, slowly drifts away too.

The eyes are open,
but somehow still in deep slumber.
With the shrill voices of stillness around,
what couldn’t be expressed becomes well-known.

The agony of the harshness seem glued to the skin,
but somehow lives alongside the unsettled pain of the loss to bear.

Spring knocks,
but somehow the flowers try hard to bloom.
With the wrongs done,
the rights seem out of place.
Yes, the winter has gone,
but somehow the cold still lingers.

Maybe it’s this place I live in;
maybe it’s this deceased silence.

Maybe it’s the numbness of pain.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just you.
But to them, I know. It’s nothing new.
cold

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Author: Takbeer Salati

I've never been a millionaire but I just know I’d be darling at it .

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