“Phantasmagoria”

As heavy as eternity,
The silence presses on her,
And she feels the peace of it,
Though she knows,
She should be in pain,
But it’s easier to be lost in the cold,
Than in herself.

She stands at the window,
And it is snowing,
Beautiful and light,
Innocence as she once might have missed,
Now knows nothing of it,
She feels moved to cry,
But she does not know she is sad.

Her fingers are white and thin,
And she traces the falling snow’s path,
With her heart,
Knowing she’s falling,
But pretending she is flying,
Because it’s easier,
Than letting go.

Her heart aches,
She thinks with longing,
But it is only the cold,
And she steps out into the snow,
Tears falling freely,
But she still insists,
She is happy.

Her face is tilted
To meet the sky,
And the snow
Falls all around her.
It is so beautiful through the window,
But outside it is only cold,
And her tears are frozen.

She holds her hand out,
To catch the falling snow,
And she watches in wonder,
As blood pools in her palm,
She is so snow-blinded,
That she does not feel,
Snowflakes piercing her.

She stands outside,
Until all her tears,
Turn crimson,
Then she turns around and goes in,
Knowing she can never love the snow,
But that she will watch from the window,
And soon….

She will forget,
The pain of the cold,
And she will only see,
The surface beauty,
Because her heart is bound,
Within its own insecurity,
She is powerless.

She is trapped now,
In front of the window,
Bound by her denial,
By her own fear,
Of solitude,
And she insists,
Everything will turn out fine.

She is in a trance,
And she opens the window,
To snow,
And green eyes,
And she is too cold,
To breathe anymore,
It is too late…

She is covered,
In a beautiful blanket,
Of self-imposed
Frostbite,
And it hurts so much,
She cannot feel it,
Anymore….

Tears are frozen
Halfway down her cheek,
And she will never cry them,
Or any others,
As she allows the cold inside,
To possess her,
Until next winter.