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Aesthetics
November 4, 2015
Your hand dropped mine
for a fistful of ice
prettier than stone
but its transparency
is deadly
A stone is truly beautiful
in its core
Your fingers are numb
splinters race through your arm
and you watch water drip
from your knuckles
onto me
As your empty hand
begins to thaw
you see what you've done
Your choice has disappeared
and tried to drown me
on its way
But I'm still here
Who else
can say the same?
© Maria R., Allston, MA
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