cold tomb

it was a fallacious fantasy
of the most deceptive kind
laced with misgivings,
misdirections,

possible contrivances
that were beyond
my willingness
to perceive.

it was
such a sweet doom
spoken on pursed lips
laced
with the venom
of lies.

the kiss killed slowly,

the touch
teased
and beckoned
the death to come.

and so
it did
and so
I stand
in the cold
watching the snow
as it buries
my soul
remembering
the heat
just out of reach
of my hand.

these nights
do not agree
with my idea
of what should be
and the loneliness
has become
my tomb.

it's all the worse
for knowing
that I voluntarily
climbed in
and even pulled
the cover
closed.