the man I love was taken by ice
we were walking as lovers do, though there was little occasion to do so. there was no grand sunset streaming in to wave us goodbye, but we did walk beside the ocean. We walked atop the cliff-edge where you can lean against the rail and the wind whips salt across your face.
we stood facing one another. hands resting atop each other by palms. the sea to our left. he was smiling.
i remember screaming then, our bodies being drawn away like puppets on string. i reached out for him, and him for me, but we met glass. our hands seemed to touch but i could feel ice fury beneath my fingertips. something pushed and then i was clawing at the glass to reach him.
he was falling further, three great scratches upon his face. the screaming, his, grew louder and then more distant. upon my face the cold was burning, two great strips peeling their way down my cheeks. all at once the pussy remants became scabs and i struggles to scream. shout for my lover. shout against the frozen inferno now surrounding us.
we had just been walking.
now the man i love is falling away from me, the ice and baren wastes are surrounding him. already i can no longer picture his face and mine is frozen in place. his eyes, not always blue, screamed with rage. if i could just pick up my hand i might reach him. instead i feel myself lying on cold rock.
days later and i find myself somewhere else, somewhere my lover is not. often do i return to find him but he is lost to me. lost to bitterness.
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It’s not often I elect to lose capitalisation.
Enjoy my raw writings.