My eyes are glazed over with ice,
but your image seems to melt them into deep dark pools.
Just like the gathered rain after a storm.
My fists are clenched and uninviting,
but your hand seems to find warmth in the crevices between my fingers.
Just like your voice has carved itself into my memory
and your face has hollowed out a place inside of my heart.
The winter inside of me is starting to change.
The snow is melting, the flowers blooming.
T.he butterflies in my stomach have come out to play.
Snowy days into stary nights.
The constellations etched into my eyelids.
Like when I lye alone each night
and that place you've hollowed out in my heart
puts me to sleep with a foolish smile on my face.
Critique another poem?
It reads more like a Harlequin romance novel than a poem. Not too bad, not too good, but keep trying.
Reply:Well, it's loaded with metaphors. Not sure they're all working well together, though.
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