Melting An Ice Queen

Ice doesn’t mean cruel,

It means sun-radiant walls that

Reflect anything shone upon them.

It’s detachment.

The absolute knowledge that leaving would only cause

Guilt, that harm came to another.

Creating a frozen wall within them that wasn’t there before.

It means contentment

With no desire to change.

No desire for warmth,

Though blankets abound so as not to alarm those around.

It’s heavy heels as anchors so

she doesn’t shatter into blizzards around company.

It’s unemotional responses to art,

teeth pulled,

Surgery removed bits

Of herself that shatter into

Personal snowstorms. That are both

Biting-sharp points of truth and the

Fluffy blanket of children’s laughter when snow finally settles.

It’s not an absence of emotions,

But the idea she has no grasp of her own,

So, she steals others.

Reflecting stolen faces.

Her’s coming off more bright and brilliant

Then the one she stole them from.

It’s knowing the Sahara heat won’t melt her and

Ice drills won’t break through her frozen lake.

Because she likes to be impenetrable.

It’s safer that way.