[quote="Incandescence"]To those no longer present.
After the beloved is dead.
After the personal history ends History never ends. It's just getting bigger
with a glassy-eyed over, it's been,
says a polar presence. Cold
juxtaposes with the waning warmth
of the human. Cold, and its polar
opposite. There was once
an earlier epoch
when imagination corresponded
to the future. But here is the tormented
arithmetic of one minus one. The zero
now what forever hides the other.
This is what it looks like—loneliness:
a domino sequence of Nothing becoming
a spectacle—the small war of the heart
made bigger by far in the world.
And daylight is a gift.
Small cog after cog slips into the hour nice
and razor thin minute slot without stop.
And daylight is a gift
we tie with some tinsel.
It makes me feel like it's cold outside and inside me. Temperature of your poem will be 20F. You could throw some colour in it. For example, blue and green-cold colours so you get better feelings about the sadness and sorrow in poem. You could also add warm colours like red and yellow to make contrast(just a suggestion)
