She was like snow.
Beautiful at first glance, but
Cold and pitiful to the touch.
However, the longer you hold
Snow, the more it begins to change.
It melts in your palms.
And he knew that.
He knew that if he held onto her,
Her walls would come down, and
Her merciless facade would
Eventually fade into nothing.
So, he waited.
And sure enough, she melted.
She melted because of him.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
