My face is burned from the wind.
Frost on my lips, and ice in my veins.
I'm having a hard time deciding which is more intense
the cold glare off the midday sun
or the reflection of myself in the frozen landscape.
The tears don't even have a second to form
they just freeze to my cheeks
instantaneously.
Frostbitten over my entire body
numb inside and out.
Where is my heart?
Shunned and cast aside like yesterdays leftovers
left to decay in the icebox.
With no second chance to nourish me.
The chill is advancing further inside
my breathe doesn't even condense now
it integrates into the freezing gale.
Movement is now null and void
all I have left is a hollow sensation
haphazardly blowing in this ocean of white.
My eyes crack and shatter
open to this true form.
It is not the tundra of a far off continent
but the wasteland of body
and soul.
I have no feeling left to disperse.
Just cold
unadulterated apathy.
Another tombstone amongst the living
awaiting the day my epitaph will be written.
But the words erode
leaving a frozen stone.
My call to the ages lost to future generations
taken away by the hail of winter.
I am a shell.
A fossil yet to be formed
only in time and process.
I have nothing left
and that is my gift.
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