a farewell, frozen

shadowed ... the China hills like little pills set on end and stairs that wend to the moon so far from June, he thought wrought now with frustration on the ramp of the station her - taking the express in his favorite dress … Mr Mess, behind (he was trying to be kind) yes ... too many y's, too many why's too many wise old Manchurian sighs he always thought with his eyes so, was easy to fool school time, Miss Farmer given an arm or a leg, (or dimpled back) on tip-toe to show her better side (what a ride) ... she was a jaded jester just her breath on the window frozen ... chosen to speak for her, cold (that chin - so sweet!) squeak, squeak, squeak tip-of-finger in the feral frost his peril cost him naught but time but there, in rhyme chilled between them on glass (he'd seen them at last) now melting, but fast in his matter, gray mad as a hatter they and the deed, defended ended ... when did he lose her? she answered with a terse curse her lips pursed to first refresh the frost so the words ... so the words would ... so the words would be CLEAR so he'd finally hear her soul speak - "I! DON'T! LOVE! YOU!" written in ice crystals as nice as a pistol's business end (and to send the bullet home ... ) "But I'll always ... be your ... friend!" BAM! he crumpled onto his knees ... onto the icy platform, alone the train tenderly pulling away ... her message now freezing the cold quickly seizing his heart, abiding frosty pane hiding the two of them him ... and them ... how fitting, thought he that the phrase she'd chosen (to rub his nose in) now lingered, frozen ... frozen ... frozen ... like the day ... (darkening, quiet) like the rail, gunmetal gray (screeching, choking, smoking) like the winter-tide song of a sparrow spearing him bone-to-marrow ... (lone, the morrow) like his chill being ... fleet, fleeing like the swollen breast of March like the empty bed, set loose, his head like the blade should find her throat (hidden deep, his coat) like dreams, lost like love's cost ... like hell. Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, March 6, 2021