Winter in Chains
Mist crept over the headstones that filled her mouth,
coating the dead languages she kept buried there.
She bathed in vanilla words borrowed from a lover,
but secrets have a way of contaminating porcelain skin.
December offered comfort like ice offers warmth to neighbors,
but she neglected the nightfall in its soliloquy.
Some interesting metaphors here. Especially this one:
“She bathed in vanilla words borrowed from a lover,
but secrets have a way of contaminating porcelain skin.”
I can’t wait to read more of your work! 🙂
I really appreciate the great feedback. Thanks so much!
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