irreconcilable

I already got used to shivers and cold,

and recognize in them something of a old friend.

I’m not longer frightened when I see them coming,

hear them hissing, sort of Medusa with her snakes.

I let them in.

Open the doors, do not resist,

Feel them climb through my limbs,

creep on my lips, make me mute.

Cause deep inside I know they won’t bite.

They’ll come and stay,

and rub against my scent,

like the pervert feelings they represent.

They’ll threat and numb,

with the sadness they carry,

and off again leaving words 

that still talk about the name you own.

May be I’m somehow addicted,

to playing the victim of my own choices.

May be I’m unable to put together words that’d form 

a poem worth be read,

without an open wound, old or new,

pound of flesh, sunset drowned, memory of you.