In spring we held hands  .  .  .
Now cold fingers for pockets,                                                                  
  .  .  .  Winter never leaves.

She ran into the forest.
They detested her,
even if she just did her best.
She found a spot, under a tree.
Dots of silver teased her,
"Come, see me."
With sweaty hands,
she picked with a swift gesture.
She held, it collapsed,
"What could I've done wrong?"
She took another, this time with caveat.
Still, it fell apart, in a usual format.

"Am I that destructive?"
She asked herself.

"No. Look."

The steady beads of pearls were, dancing?
Piles of rubble lifted to the sky,
like stars in the early morning.
The wind lingered, blew them quite gently
Magnificence is painted around the vivid scene she's seeing.
She inhaled every beauty.
Then, exhaled every shattered dream.

"You're right, whoever you are,
There's still beauty in breaking."

I drown in the depths of your ocean
I hang from the noose of your words
I suffocate as you take the air I breathe
I am pale from your winter so absurd

I burn by the scorching heat of your dessert
I am lost in your maze of lies
I am scarred by the blade of your selfishness
And I am blinded by the beauty of your light