Reality

The skin cold, cold as snow,

Turns to stone, sent below.

The icy breeze eases along with hoarse wheezes.

Brought to his knees, teasing him, the warm wind sleazes.

Dead cold flesh, freezing breath,

No more less, less than death.

Black ocean, no motion,

Heart frozen, not chosen.

He not the sea, she it be, all that it needs.

So unlovely, she of we, is what he sees.

Fear of her, fires burn,

Glacier, dark weather.