Ice Cold Dream

January 26, 2016

Misty lashes mesh

Lightly grazing her upper cheek

Like blown dust from an aged book.

Dust turning to ice

Forcing its venerable pages down her throat.

Words starting to puncture

Stab

Comfort.

Old wounds open,

Sentences ripping at her chest,

Metaphors tearing into the skin of her back

New abrasions replenished with the poison

Of a decrepit daydream.

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