Cold

A cold still awakes me.
Misty, eerie fog whispers
Hopes and dreams of the long lost and forgotten.

I crawl through the frosty, damp grass.
Misshapen and crumbling tombstones align the hills,
My only company in these heavy, dreary shadows.

Tranquil silence surrounds me...
No sound except my own deafening thoughts
Blare in my head.

My body shakes as I grasp for air.
Night drowns my pleads, my screams.
No one is here except the souls,
The souls and me.

Stale midnight air suffocates,
As a chill slowly freezes my blood.
My breath mists and fades in unison with my heart.

Musty leaves slowly flutter to the icy earth,
A bitter rain of fall.
Gold, brown, and orange puddles
Conceal the beat-up, worn path I walk along.

I am defenseless against the darkness,
For my tattered coat is cliched.
I shiver in the wake of dawn.

A hazy fog overwhelms me,
Devouring every sense of warmth and courage
My body radiated.

I scurry frantically, stumbling over debris.
Running on...
Running on...

My heart echoes in my ears,
My legs pound a rhythm of fright.
Lungs burn with a wintry satisfaction,
Curing every hunger of freedom I once had.

Past slowly fades away,
As I pass tree after worn out tree.

I become jaded and my body quivers,
Strength less.
I fall to my knees,
Shedding every faithful tear.

Leaves descend around me,
Seemingly attempting to comfort my vulnerable soul.
"You're free," they murmur.
"You're free."

The golden sun creeps over the treetops,
Illuminating the previously shadowed wooded graves.
Moldy, stale air heightens my senses,
And relaxes my mind, so cautious, now peaceful.

I look to the painted sky,
Then close my eyes.
...And breathe.