The Water Runs Cold

These are the stories, 

of which I was told,

My hands and stomach tremble. 

The water runs cold.

The water runs cold 

as it fills in my palm.

The water runs cold 

like the silence to my song.

It brings me shivers 

as it crawls down my spine,

Washing away dreams 

where every things fine.

Now, this is the truth, 

lo and behold,

The truth is fatal 

as the water runs cold.






©2009 Matt Bohannon