by Monique Rardin Richardson

Flares bursting through the bare branches,

casts vertical shadows a mile long

on the frozen pond.

How can something with such beauty

elicit so much danger?

One incorrect step and I could perish

without another word spoken or heard,

into an iridescent slush of silence.

I don’t want my last view to be the sky,

a magnificent sight, although not the shade of blue

I'd wish to see before there's no

existence of me.

If I proceed with caution,

across the slippery basin,

there may be a different outcome.

But I'd be tiptoeing

through the experience.

So many moments,

I wished I hadn't been chilled

by the fear of you fading away.

Numb by desire rising

from my missing piece.

Maybe, if I were me…

Your heart would have melted

into the warmth of my eyes

and seen yourself as I did.

​

Fingers forever entwined

with mine,

not released to a freedom

undesired.

Now I question…

              everything.