Ice Queen

Icicles dripped from your eyelashes, breaking your ebony skin so slightly.
I wondered if you could feel it.

A growl like glaciers scraping against each other set my teeth on edge.
I must remember that I am a lioness.

You threw the biting wind at me, tearing at my offensive porcelain skin.
I angled my chin defiantly and bared my teeth.

You poured nitrogen down my throat, making me swallow every last drop.
It burned like fire, blistering my calm.

Snow swirled around you as if you commanded it, but it is only an illusion.
You control nothing.

Don’t forget.

Not So Forlorn

I felt myself missing the nightmares,
missing the jagged edges I used to insert
into my waiting gullet. I hardly felt it.

I missed the cold. I missed the way
the air would become crystalline
before my eyes. I wondered if I could
grasp it in my gloved hands, just in case.

I missed the emptiness, the hollow sound
every step made against the pavement.
The echoes reverberated in my rib cage,
sending my heart stuttering through its beats.

I remembered the nightmares with startling clarity,
as if they had never left. I remembered that.

Now… now, I no longer just remember. I know,
and that knowledge fills the spaces between my
aching bones. It lends me oxygen, “just in case”.
My heart beats strong, in spite of its holes.
It dusts the cobwebs from my hope and
I know I’m not so forlorn after all.


I am a lioness you say.
I hunt for my pride, but I look in
boxes I had long put up for winter,
forgetting it was November. 

I am a lioness you say.
Blood drips from my muzzle
as I lope through the herd of
blissfully unaware sheep.

I am a lioness you say.
I dress myself daily in the wools
of my hunt from the day before,
being sure to hide my fangs. 

I am a lioness you say.
I am still hunting for my pride.
It seems you, one of the sheep,
has ripped it from me.