dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: cold

his hand was as cold
as the shining doorknob
throbbing gold and locked
in her memory

keys and cords
kept choking
the copper pipes
in her old home

so barefoot she walked
the stone path
to the doorbell
rusted raspy

corroded happiness
dusted her fingertips
and attic air caked her lips
as she reached

for his hand

We are all cold steel magnets,

Stuck together,

Pulled like waves

By the moon.

Opposite poles attract,

React within.

Your warm oatmeal words

Pour into my cold

Porcelain bowl soul.

They soften the echo,

Sweeten the silence,

Make me whole.