Brock Daumler

Love - Poem by Brock Daumler

A cold snow bank
yearns for warmth outside
simply by existing.
I'm lying naked on it
to keep it warm
because nothing's better
than the smell of formaldehyde;
singeing your nose hairs
and twisting your insides.
Nothing beats death's descending maw;
that queasy feeling as you lose consciousness,
and when your eyes roll back into a blank white stare,
you waving your hollow gaping jaw,
but you've already frozen solid.

Topic(s) of this poem: love, snow

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, December 12, 2015

Poem Edited: Friday, July 29, 2016

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