11 January, 2010

hothouse flower

I’m like a hothouse flower, all dried and bitter cold withered lips pale and peeling. Planted in flickering pools of cool light, I’ve grown to appreciate the frozen windows and frost covered locks. Sometimes the only way to bloom is to force it, but suspended under glass under snow it hardly seems worth the effort.


One Response to “freezing”

  1. Meadow Says:

    so many metaphors here but I’d just like to comment that blooming is always worth it, and we’d all be sad if it didn’t happen

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