Frostbanished

 

If you can’t love my coldness, never come closer,

My frost bites as hard as a hungry wolf lost in a frigid winter.

I am not a cozy cabin with a fireplace lit from morning till dawn.

If you can’t love my coldness, I advise you to run,

My snowflakes are the blanket that covers you during the dark hours.

However, don’t mistake their beauty for a welcoming invite.

…

I don’t have warmth to shield you from the path of isolation,

My spring will never come; I am the winter so savage.

My northern winds won’t whisper you the song of the sun and moon entwined.

All they do is howl with anger of the time wasted on unnecessary confessions.

My glacial mountains are not your charity shelter, they are high and mighty

Yet they test the character hidden beneath fake smiles and teary eyes.

Don’t offer me your meek fire, it won’t melt the ice embedded in my bones.

Your summer heart is not what my soul desires; the heat is not the friend I need.

If you can’t love my coldness, don’t dare come any closer,

Your gentleness has no place within my castle of icy glass,

I offer daily battles - come ready to toughen up, head held high,

My kingdom has no mercy for a mind too afraid to fight the demons hidden inside.

…

If you can’t love my coldness, leave before my long night comes and harms you,

I don’t need your trembling hands when my blizzards strike in waves with hunger.

Take this dreadful heat, I don’t want to feel it again all over me,

I don’t need a spiring that feels like home when the danger of freeze feels real.

I need someone who dances calmly when my raging storms roam free and loud,

Not a person running to the fire when the darkness falls and the sky is an endless abyss.

You cannot love my coldness, I command you to run and never show yourself to me,

My winter was never yours to conquer, it was never your home to settle in,

My frozen kingdom rejects every cell of you; even your shadow has no right to darken my fresh snow.

Cycle of Chaos

 

Heart wrapped in darkness, soul engulfed in shadowiness,

Addicted to the wickedness within, ready for the long game.

Shadows dancing underneath the skin,

Losing every sense of what has been.

Fingertips charged with hidden lightnings,

Ready to damage the one chosen for this night.

Addicted to the chase and then the escape,

Living on the edge just to stay lost in the moment.

…

She doesn’t need the stability of the colourless days,

Tired of the simple nights,

She is the smoke in the sinner’s lungs,

The fix that they need when the danger is no longer present.

She is the thunder they need when the room is too sunny,

Ready to erupt in a massive storm, just to drown the silence out.

She is the earthquake they crave when walking on steady ground,

The fracture they dream about when they feel whole.

She is wildfire running in waves in their veins,

The burn they need just to feel alive one more day.

She is the hurricane they invite in their safe spaces

When her wreckage is what make them feel those rooms so called homes.

She is the lighting that splits open the darkest skies,

The fear they beg for when nothing hurts them enough.

She is the flood they want to break those brick walls,

The drowning they need to remember how to breathe.

She is the avalanche they trigger when the comfort takes hold on their lives,

The fall they desired when their existence feels more like death.

…

Picking up my own wreckage, stitching the broken pieces within,

Addicted to the healing of the annihilation I willingly begin.

Scars crawling over my pale skin, badges of honour no one else can give,

Fixing every part, ready to be shattered when the mood strikes me.

Fingertips bleeding from all the damage inflicted with ease,

Ready to undo all the progress I have made, pain is my favourite medicine.

Eager for destruction the moment I start feeling just fine,

Intoxicated with the ruins of my own peace.

She is the chaos I cannot get rid of, the sweet poison flowing in my bloodstream.

She is me and I am her – damnation and salvation clad in the same skin.

The Mask

 

How dare you to live behind all these masks?

Aren’t you tired of all these charades?

Aren’t you weakened by all the weight you pulled during the day

Pretending to function like a human, well put together,

Belonging to all the wrong rooms?

How do you live behind all these masks?

Don’t you feel lost after all the games you played?

Are you blind to the tears trying to burst?

Why don’t you feel hurt?

Or maybe your second skin is to pretend you have succeeded?

How do you choose which mask to wear?

When do you know you need to switch?

Aren’t you tired yet?

Doesn’t the pain weigh on you or is your numbness your greatest strength?

How much harm can you take before you fall down exhausted by the “would it be great if” in your life?

How do you live behind all these masks?

Is this who you truly are? – A chameleon, a performance well staged?

Aren’t you too damaged to recognize the deep wounds - unhealed?

Or don’t the scars matter to you anymore?

What if every mask is a knife in your soul, perverting you from being whole?

What if every show is just another lie you love to watch and hear, avoiding to face how broken you have become?

Why is this stage all you crave when the harm is bleeding you dry?

What have you done?

…

How dare you to live behind all these masks?

Almighty, perfect human in front of the broken mirror – which mask is the winner today?

Are you picking the mask of the strong one or maybe the unforgivable one?

Which reflection do you call real tonight?

Or maybe the cracks are showing who you are?

Nope, you are not tired yet, standing speechless, one hand on the wall,

A new mask in the other hand, ready to be worn.

Getting ready for the next place you can’t belong,

A life you can’t even call your own and still, you put the mask on – ready to fool yourself, to disappear behind another face.

The Scar I Chose

 

I no longer can stay with you – your taste is now bitter, no strawberry flavoured kisses,

I no longer can stay with you – your scent is now too musky,

I no longer can stay with you – your gaze is now a glacier, piercingly cold,

I no longer can stay with you – your touch makes my skin ache.

…

You started like a tale as old as time – a long - forgotten sweetness pouring into my mouth.

Every stolen minute flew like a blink of an eye,

Every spoken word felt like music, song so distant yet devoted, mine.

Your presence awoke feral thoughts as if I were a beast, finally ready to escape the chains,

Suppressed for ages, ready to taste the freedom you offered, ready to come out.

Every touch made me strong, ready to endure what you had in store for me,

Ready to explore, ready to be devoured, ready to evaporate.

Your raspy voice, so enchanting, made me dance under the full moon like an untamed wolf.

Your fingers tracing my spine defied gravity, I felt like a raven roaming freely through the sky.

…

Your lips are now foreign – rotten cranberries replaced the sweetness I learned to love.

Your scent still lingers in the outer corners of my room, still refusing to leave even after I replaced you with a bouquet of fresh lilac.

I no longer search for the empty eyes you gifted me – you are now just another stranger passing by my life.

My body still remembers your touch – I refuse to forget what it feels like not be held.

…

But I will bury your scent beneath fresh flowers every day,

I will change the music and introduce a new dance,

I will teach my body to stop craving the touch of your hands,

I will accept the lonely room and never let you reach the door.

…

I no longer can stay with you – I refuse to drink the wine dressed in sweetness, brewed only to poison me,

I no longer can stay with you – I refuse to wear your scent follow me,

I no longer can stay with you – I refuse to shiver in your winter,

I no longer can stay with you – your touch is now a scar I choose not to heal.

The Other Half

 

And there they stood – a spitting image of each other – same posture, same gestures, same facial expressions.

However, one of them was elegant – a custom-tailored dark olive pantsuit, a dark cashmere shirt peeking out underneath the jacket, high heels, expensive bag, a boring bob she called a hairstyle – simple yet sophisticated. Looking at her face – the marks of unhappiness painted all over her features – dark circles hidden by the light make-up, fine wrinkles crossing her forehead – traces of frowning too many times for too long. Poised, successful, stylish, yet visibly unhappy. The life had been sucked out of her; the eyes were dull and sparkles, her smile long forgotten.

Opposite her stood the other half – joyful and playful, dressed alternatively – boots, chains and harnesses. Leather skirt, transparent shirt, crop top – all black. Yet her hair was more colourful than the rainbow – her long lush hair hugged her shoulders. Her eyes twinkle like big stars on a dark sky, her smile – was spring in full bloom, her features fresh and carefree, alive. Her career had gone nowhere but her personal life was a bouquet of memories and emotions woven into every cell of her being.

Both stood still, looking at each other, curious and surprised. They had no idea the other one existed. And although there were tons of questions roaming in their minds eager to be asked, they remained silent – locked in a staring contest. A few moments later, they parted ways without a word – each of them continuing with their routines.

Curiosity was all they had. They were lone wolves – raised apart, survived alone with no place for each other in their lives. Two halves, yet somehow complete. Incompatible. Outsiders to each other.

They know now they are two, yet their lives cannot mesh – too different, too proud to bend, too busy to explore, no need to connect.