Amounting to more
Than my heart can hold
Stained silver cuts deep
With its poison-steeped blade
And the pen in my hand
Remains bitter cold to the touch

I write my pleas
With ice-coated words
Words that melt swiftly
As they dance upon coals
The embers of a fiery
And deceitful tongue

As I tiptoe along
The edge of the Earth and back
I notice there is scarcely
A whisper in the wind
Imprecise eyes
See only brackish blinks now

Fallen memories
Have piled outside my door
Yet my footprints
Are still sprinkled across the field
And I retreat,
Back to a haven of simple thoughts

I am hallucinating
As I watch pieces of myself chip away
As though I am a sculpture
For winter's amusement
Merely a plaything
Of this everlasting frost