16 ~16~

The brisk winter's wind

frigid against my face

The gentle water's edge

calming my numb fingertips

My body going rigid

as the piercing wind

bites at my toes

Burning at the sensation

of ice against my flesh

My throat tightens

air constricting

needing to be able to breathe

I can feel myself slowly wasting

crumbling away

My searing eyes closing

the want to fight diminishing

My last thoughts

are had alone

As they should be