Heat from sugary tea filled the room,
a haven, a safe mother’s womb.
Warm, infused water fed the glow inside her heart,
yet clogged with thick, hesitant soup.
He sat straight with a glowing face,
eyes a rich, alluring chocolate,
hand shimming the surface across
to her trembling, hunched knuckles.
Table bowed as she shot upwards,
The cold, ghostly hands gripping at her mind,
shame swelling in her chest.
“I have to go,” she whispered.
Back in her decorated cave,
She dove into summoned waterfall of cool,
Under the hard, wet pebbles,
Her pink skin turned blue.
Rocks continued to pound her,
Punishing with their chill.
She held herself in shrivelled arms,
Comfort disappearing from her own embrace.
Still, she thought of him,
Her body breathing a wave of heat,
the image of his warm, brown eyes,
smile pinching her lips.
Another haul of chill ran down her back,
His eyes growing an icy blue in her numb gaze,
Her stomach hurling, her body collapsing,
Trapped in her cage of ice and glass.
- by Claire L. Smith -