Snowflakes fell outside her window, but there was none colder than she. An icy wall concealed her fall so no one else could see. Frozen deep within the banks that flanked her cold abode was a fragile heart as hard as stone, a painful, heavy load. Hair dark and obscure as she shone in the sun when she was blessed, but now snowflakes adorned the locks, for Father Sun had gone to rest.

Once she had made a sacrifice, before that cursed wall of ice came into play – that dreamlike day that those three words were spoken. Her offer was rejected and erected in its place was the very wall that broke her fall… she was already broken.

Time was frozen in her mind behind those eyes so hollow, for as the cold had froze the sky so did her spirit follow. Upon her skin were ribbons white, tied tight around her limbs; the bonds, now severed, once endeavored to tie her close to him. Now she was lost with none to give in a life that she could barely live trapped in costly frost; though intricately made, it was not worth the price she paid.

The tears once in her eyes had dried, as did her point in living, for beauty so deep matters not denied the joy of giving. Despairing at the lack of sharing, caring not about herself, but for the one who broke her heart, she drank his poison to her health.

And now she walks beyond the wall to step into the night – oh, but would she choose to lose if she had waited for the light? She didn’t, for she didn’t know that though true love won’t fail, it takes two to make it true and let the love prevail. She was but one, and she was done: She didn’t care to know, and with that she lay down flat upon the bank of snow. Alone she broke and spoke no words, awoken to her fate, for any help that showed up now would be showing up too late. She closed her eyes and put her arms around where he should be, but all was cold as dreams of old faded ultimately. And then the cold escaped her, or she escaped the cold, as consciousness mercif’ly left the mind that (too early) was sold.

And there she is, still lying, dying though she’s long been dead: her bed empty too many nights, she slept with death instead.