Heart Ice
The icy shards hold true,
drawing blood from
his well-meaning hands,
but he does not relent.
Let go your wretched grip!
Your grasp is no threat
to the frozen chambers
and years of glacial torment
cutting raw again
into scars so old,
there is no more pain,
and no more life in me.
Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment