The Cold
It seems so cold ever since that day,
That day when the casket was closed,
and she was was swallowed by the world.
That day when the world froze like her cold hands,
and her face lay silent like it was edged from stone.
That day when I accepted that what lay in that box,
was not the girl that I'd loved just days before,
but only a puppet whose string had been cut.
Every place I'd been with her was a memory we had shared.
Every memory become blurrier each day,
As I strain to remember our love.
Every time I think of her a knife is driven in to my heart,
and leaves a whole where my love slowly seeps out.
The only thing living is the roses she loved but,
soon they will die and join her as well.
People try to give there grief the best they can but,
words cannot make up for years that we lost.
Years she will spend in the confinements of a coffin,
six feet below the surface.
People say it's colder when your alone,
Maybe thats why it's been so cold ever since that day.