Frozen shards of rain pelt my exposed skin,
My black dress whipping fiercely in the storm;
The small, stinging cuts raise slightly and leave behind
Faint pink lines that, with harder falling rain, instantly form.
I stand in the middle of that blaringly green field,
My eyes closed in acceptance of the raging weather,
The ice feeling like feathers against battered and bloodied arms and cheeks,
My mind wanders to a memory of wild flowers and tall grass.
My arms rest by my side, hands balled into tight fists,
Learning to embrace a pain that lingers deeper in a glacier-like soul,
Reinforcing steel walls that support and surround a heart
As if it were the finest jewel.
Solemnly, my lips allow no words to leave,
Letting the glass-like rain drops kiss and destroy me
While sparing the white rose that stands strong and resilient
Beside my cowering lonesome figure.
My fingers ache to pluck the flower and hold it to my empty chest,
Placing it where my heart should beat rhythmically,
But my mind screams to leave the perfection
And adore it from afar, the frozen rain illuminating its beauty.
