Frigid Fame

November 3, 2011
Just behind my teeth,
An evil grin resides.
Some tiny words slip through
Like happy little sighs.
His shirt's undone, I dance.
I feel his skin on mine,
A vengeance no one knows of.
It picks the scab of time.
Blankets floating in my head,
Kicked from bed to floor,
Reminding me of seashells
Fair hands plucked from the shore.
This knife falls like a feather.
I barely feel its grace.
It hurts less than the absence
Of your hand on my face.
This fire licks my flesh.
Crimson valleys ache.
Your reflection mirrors my future.
Glass angels always break.
Bottles full of ocean waves
Behind thick clouds of smoke.
You flew in with the birds of death.
You barely even spoke.
I took your words like needles,
Injecting me with hate.
I listed all my victims,
You helped me choose their fate.
I've claimed that we are polar,
Yet we both live in frigid fame.
In truth, we are each other.
Mother, thank you for my name.

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