LITERAL
Frigid
I.
She still remembers their last, final touch:
Fingers intertwined. skin on cool skin.
A shoulder angled, just
Askew.
A stiff embrace, coalescing together
Fragile, sugar-spun memories and
Unaired grievances.
What she does not remember
(Or wills herself to forget, desperately)
Is home in his arms
Luminous eyes
And heart-to-hearts
Under blue skies.
Because: each gilt-edged memory brings
A deep thrill of pain
That jolts her from non-caring
To too-much.
Her sorrow breaks, breaks her
All over again
Like shards of glass.
II.
On frigid nights
(Or maybe just lonely ones)
The wrought-iron chains on her heart shift ever so slightly
And she sobs
Tiredly, brokenly, unrelentingly
Mourning for a lost age unstained.
