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Cold Purity

by Max Bouillet

Snow gently falls
on my soul
and I smile.

If I stay very still,
it will turn white
and I can pretend
to be pure
until the sun finds me.

Then my fa├žade
will melt
and I will stand up
drenched in my delusions
shake myself dry
and once again,
pray for snow.

10/13/2012

Posted on 10/14/2012
Copyright © 2020 Max Bouillet

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Colleen Sperry on 10/14/12 at 12:15 AM

love the title to this poem.. enjoyed the poem as well.. well done

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/14/12 at 01:04 AM

Quietly moving. Lovely.

Posted by Bertram Sparagmos on 10/14/12 at 04:37 PM

A succinct and moving expression.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/15/12 at 03:00 AM

I love the cyclical feel to this philosophy, the use of snow covering or melting over the soul. This is simple yet elegant. Thank you.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/23/12 at 01:47 AM

I like how this goes full circle with the snow. Cool poem (no pun intended). Great honesty in mentioning the delusions. And you're not alone, though thankfully many things keep me grounded. Maybe it's the snow? :)

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