Maddy Whitt

To say you don't matter, the words 

Pour from the mouth, lips frozen in a 

Cold front of all things unkind.

Each syllable slides like ice,

Piercing,

While the memories unbearable are

Frozen in time, frigid with layers and

Layers of self-inflicted frost.

And your eyes, slick like dreary stones

You will see a time come, 

A time where your eyes are languid, 

Breath thawed, warm with tender words that

Trickle off the tongue.