The Face of Winter
She stands—
a frozen flower;
frostbitten.
A gaze that could wither
the sturdiest tree
is aimed at the right.
Bull’s eye.
With skin fairer
than Snow White,
the Face of Winter
ignores all else
while being
trapped within her
dark restraints
that weigh her down—
the only thing keeping her from blowing away
and snapping in half.
What a brittle, frostbitten little flower.
The Face of Winter
she stands—
a frozen flower
frostbitten.
Frost-covered
frost
living a dream.
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