A Frosted Heart
It’s not important,
But it’s impaling,
A frosted surface;
A slow unveiling.
It thaws today,
It overflows,
It drops a leaf;
A dying rose.
I’m not too shy,
A voice unheard,
I speak in tongues;
Vacuous words,
Softer still
Than morning’s breeze,
But stings the tips
And starts to freeze.
He’s not unkind,
Nor trying hard,
But words can bruise
And cuts are scarred,
It’s not worth it,
It’s a mess,
But I adore it
I must confess.
A frosted heart;
It begs for more,
As winter starts
Within my core,
It creeps it’s fingers,
Hardens tears,
Frozen crystals
Inspire fears.
Another day
Gets in the way,
And still so much
I have to say,
A frosted heart,
A shallow end,
But for my good,
I still pretend.
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Rich language here and it fights like an injured deer. Did you realize this poem is in the shape of an icicle? So true and brave.