I was resilient you said. No matter the ice, no matter it’s sharpness, my flesh stayed whole and I withstood the chill of always having wet feet. You claimed to see a beauty in it. Some sort of artwork in me soaked to the bone, ribs like claws pressing out at you, wanting to gouge a layer from that smile.
Your perfect flower, your perfect, untouched bloom. I would have ripped the petals from my lips if I thought it meant I might find some way of spitting broken words like rusty knives into you. There was no measure, no way for me to slide down this scale of frozen charms into something more real.
My diamond prison
limb on limb folded about
until the joints crack.