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I hate Heather

Sister, woman.
We all face one tenderness we can’t return.
In haste, we turn away the kindest eyes
without explaining why.

Woman, stranger.
You will break a beautiful heart one day.
You will say or write a trite,
selfish goodbye.

Stranger, frozen.
You wanted to stay white inside, but didn't.
In pain, you chose to preserve what's left
cryogenically.

Frozen bitch.
You fell upon a treasure, and proved unfit
to wrap it and carry it home.
Your mantle is bare.

 

 

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all written works © April Palleria, 2003