Cold Twelve

Everything hurts so much more when its cold outside
And you're looking at yourself in the mirror
Crying, but you don't know why
Its like a chore in a hearse that carries your secrets
Carrying on the burden - keeping closed the casket
It's something you don't want to do.
There has to be a reason I'm still believing
Hanging up this picture is like a story being told through the wall.
It was the start to a portrait of an apology
In your song
But if I'm lucky, we will dance to the song on the radio
For if I fall - I might not rise up again,
And then I would lose my chance with you and at this dance.
It takes two to tango, but I'm out by 1..
So if your Cinderella, run it by me again.
Just turn your sleep into a dream and do it again.
The fear takes getting use to,
The cold twelve strikes of midnight
Like these scattered pieces of my life - I call art
You are the bird of prey,
And yet I still wear the scarlet letter for you.
Why?
It is a picture most can paint with the blinking of their eyelids.
Yet I can still taste the sun with my tongue
And the teardrops of the moon still tingle my ears
But all flirts are real, until dismissed
So come with me down this hollow hall
And breathe some life back into me.
These thin wiry arms can't take much more
For if they are exposed
You will see the deeper image standing inside me.

Poem by J.A.D. © 2003