Frigid

The burn of the cigarette argues with the chilled gust

In his lungs their battle rages

He waves to others though they care not

Cold whiskey being the one true love for his hands

Sitting and waiting for things not to come

He battles the tears in his eyes

Though the eventual rain will provide cover

The curtain of solitude provided by none other

He cries out to everyone, expecting no one

The friends of few checking in

Looks of concern washing with the rain

Company of shaky hands and broken faces

He smiles, and yet does not shiver in the cold.


Chaz Casey is a junior student-athlete competing for the track and field team. He is majoring in Fitness and Wellness Management and minoring in creative writing. He has attempted writing novels, finishing two first drafts and is now branching into poetry.

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