Smoke and mirrors
and other illusionist effects,
are what the Ice Queen surely knows best.

She’s the queen of the chill,
the master of disguise.
Even after a year, I can’t tell when
She lies.

She’s got me fooled, the Ice Queen does,
wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger,
Dangling and swinging in any direction that she pleases.
I suppose I deserve it,
Being used and mentally abused by a girl
So cold in her own world of make-believe gold.

I didn’t know it then, and I still don’t know it now,
but her heart must look much like mine,
All but ready to be six feet into the ground.

She sits there against the brick,
legs crossed on the ground.
Her cancer cane dangles between her fingers
as she inhales and the ends flame.
Smoke veils around her face as I sit to the side,
while my mind begins to race.
She turns to me and puts her hand on my knee,
whispers something sweet,
“I think it’d be quite nice for both our lips to meet.”

With those green eyes and that devilish grin,
her hand went to my neck and she slowly pulled me in.
We crashed with a burn, heated tingles on my tongue;
She tasted of smoke, and I knew our fun had just begun.
She pulled away with that same sinister grin,
and I thought that maybe,
just maybe,
she’d let me in.