The cold twisted around my chest, vines of ice embedded with thorns that pierced and sent forth bursts of pain that came and went with the beating of my heart.
Pulse, pain, pulse, pain. A steady rhythm that keeps me suspended in the moment, with no direction and no purpose. A gentle calming that conflicts with the shipwreck inside me.
Sharp tears and razor-edged thoughts silently cascade down my cheeks, leaving in their tracks ravines to hold the memories. Memories captured and frozen in ice to be studied in later years, to be reminded of this desolate, frigid landscape. A reminder of loneliness in wide open spaces and hunger for the embers.
Because thorns leave scars, and scars never forget.
Inspired by the writing prompt from Ink & Grace Editing