Glazed over eyes,
ice on an old winter road.
She waited for bittersweet wind
to pierce through her skin
like the icicles hanging from the porch
where she lay.
Glazed over eyes,
ice on an old winter road.
She waited for bittersweet wind
to pierce through her skin
like the icicles hanging from the porch
where she lay.
You are loved. Even if you feel that you aren't, you are.