Rosmin Elsa Mohan
Is it the shiver that runs down your spine?
Or the numbness that makes you whine,
Is it the antonym to the sweat of time?
Or the pain that reflects a bloody crime?
Is it not the unseen blood that flows?
When a loved one but gently stows
You away and not but see
You away and lets you free
Is it not the love you yearned for?
Is it not the love denied?
Is it not that feeling unmoored?
Is it not that face that lied?
Nothing is colder than love, for sure
A lie in love, the coldest ever
The hardest to live and endure
Is the predatory answer
Now or never.
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Comments about this poem (Cold by Rosmin Elsa Mohan )
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
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