Too long has my heart lain in this wint'ry room,

The pallor of death is no protection

From the icy shroud that creates a tomb

And robs the sweet soul of all affection.

A false love, though broken, is truly felt

And freely given if not accepted,

Though it may not bring forth that springtime melt

May smile upon life and leave affected.

A heart that drips blood while fighting the thaw

Then falls into apathy at sunset

Asphyxiated in the ice queen's claw

Affection is spent and blood is the debt.

In twelve muted lines my story is done-

A lie to follow truth: life and love won.

~ ~

A sarcastic sneer on an unwashed face,

So much sharper if it wasn't for

The tears left on skin to touch and to taste

Dripping as acid to spill to the floor.

Clear and probing eyes under a blank gaze

Flicker with fire though the surface seems cold

Mind twists, soon turning as if in a maze

To grasp onto the thoughts, to bend and fold.

And yet deep within this layer of a layer

Trapped between great sheets of reinforced hate,

A kneeling figure bent as if in prayer

Silent in a cloister of stifling fate.

There lies the key to the lock on the cross,

Caught up in sorrow and trapped within loss.