I don't care if you say it really isn't poetry. I don't care what format it be, but just read the "story".
A cold day of
November like most Novembers,
the sun set gold,
red, and clementine. Before
a deep blue sky
took over. It was
an ocean of darkness,
the stars swam like
fish in the ocean
sky. A beautiful sight.
Especially for the human
eye, before disappearing into
a bright blue sky
as they call it,
perhaps a clouded grey
sky lingers underneath uncovered.
Than snow will fall
in fat snowflakes to
the sensitive flesh that
allergies cold with ache.
It cuddled closer feeling
the cold emitting from
my body dissolve where
his body was warmth.
Here the cold was a bite that hurt.
A woolen scarf, a
fleece jacket, a pair
of winter boots, and
cozy sweater, in his
hand a cup of
hot chocolate that breathed
about a warm breath. On
his heart a black
and red poppy, a
choke that made his
skin flush and the
pain of the cruel
memory.
Red was blood, black
was the sky, and
blue was tears. Both
melded their lips into
each other for a
soft and passionate kiss.
Their lips covered in
frosty flakes as they
became one, the glass
will cut through flesh
but never lost love.