Sunday, July 7, 2013

Cold

Cold

Slivers of ice run through my veins
every time you show me hostility
it freezes my brain and heart while
all the time I tell myself no reaction
ice fingers squeeze my ribcage
I have no control over my feelings
unless I want to be an ice cube 

1 comment:

  1. Very hard, Willow. Very hard.... No, you don't want to be an ice cube.

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