It Was Cold

It was cold...

It was sword...

It was nothing like I thought

They were slicing the night, both

the cold and the sword

The sweet sound of silence was broken

By the voiceless scream, in such sleepless dream

It was a hanging towel on my bathroom

It was a banging bowel inside my asylum

It was nothing...

but the whispering noice of good bye

but the micro expression of content

It was cold...

It was your word..