Posted in Creative Writing


Cold creeps like winter frost
gradually turning windows opaque

A shard of glass has lodged in my heart
forcing ice through every vessel


a broken mirror
that reflects only shadows

and my anger grows
like vines folding around

a statue

crumbling with wear
in the garden of Memory

My Pygmalion
a kiss may thaw this ice

please bear me in mind
should you wander through the garden

but should you choose to stay
by the gate, do not gape in wonder

to find me again
remade in ice and stone


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