You decided not to exist
when you froze my bones last January—
bright as an attic in August
bathing in the warmth.
When you froze my bones last January,
I bit my lip and tasted something like blood
bathing in the warmth
my hot red face made.
I bit my lip and tasted something like blood
and I could smell the old books;
my hot red face made
your ice-skating pond melt.
I could smell the old books
like a constant reminder of you—
your ice-skating pond melts
and I hear the echo of cracking ice.
A constant reminder of you
kisses the back of my neck;
I can hear the echo of cracking ice
Spinning away in the distance.
Kiss the back of my neck,
bright as an attic in August—
it all spins away into the distance
and you decide not to exist. |
Submission Name: When You Echo
