It wasn’t the
cold that stole away my
steps nor this hesitating soul,
it’s the time that gets lost between every
nostalgic breath I take. The faces fade away
from memories, transforming into
illusions sinking deep in
my heavy heart.
The title's really clever, and this being a shape poem, using an octagon (the mma ring) to talk about your fight. I know I got it wrong the first time around, thinking it was meant to be a stop sign (I still don't know why or how I convinced myself to think that lol).
That said, maybe the verses weren't supposed to directly correlate with fighting, or maybe it was, I still pictured a mma fight:
'stole away my/steps' -> i had imagery of fighters moving closer to one another, and the other fighter with their back against the cage
'this hesitating soul' -> imagery of a fighter knowing their out of their element but still fighting on
'it’s the time that gets lost between every
nostalgic breath I take.'
imagery of fighters taking a break after each round struggling for breath,
and obviously the ending.
it may have been intended or not, but just wanted to point that out. this is a really layered write :)