Cold Feet

Hope is an old rug,

maybe old and a little ugly,

but cherished by you.

It keeps your feet warm on winter nights

and completes the decor in your sitting room.

It remains a comforting backdrop

until it becomes a weapon

and leaves a massive hole

that fills up the house.

Life can't rip the rug out from under you

if you choose to stand on the cold bare floor

and let frostbite be your only comfort.

Because when you're numb, nothing hurts.

If I don't care, the phone call could be about anything,

not just more bad news

about you.

Another heart-stopping jolt

as the rug gets ripped away.

I'll stand on the bare floor and freeze

before I hope again.

Without hope

one cannot be disappointed.

Because to live is to accept death

and I refuse.