100 on Cold | Writer & Author Teresa Little
It runs in your veins creating ice trails through that splintered heart. I didn't see the crystal shards embedded in your blue blooded, pale hand or the deep-freeze under ninety degrees that never thaws. It lingers in your voice, the cold, detached goodbye, the frosted turned cheek, and the dismissal with your eyes. How I wish we never got involved. I'm tired of the hardened heart, the chill of this empty bed, the heat misplaced and displaced. How simple things roll off your banks and careen down mountainsides laden with snow. Caught in the avalanche and buried in your cold.
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