I feel cold Not from the biting breeze, nor the slicing waters of my tears But from you My mind remains a dark wonderland of the ghosts you awakened The ghosts that arose from my soul that was once alive You did that
My eyes mourn over the sad truths that my heart cannot leap over My body shivers from the memories of each stab, scratch and sting
From the river of your speeches From the thunder of your violence Lastly, from the crisp shine of the aftermath
You Are the reason, for the winters of my Heart
— Nanda Regine
From "Inside Her Roses"
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