White Lies

“It’s cold…”
Fragile footsteps upon a path of woven words.
Crackle. Crunch.
What doesn’t kill it,
Makes it stronger.

“Too cold…”
Crystallized, interlocked, as they’re spun from chapped lips.
Crackle. Crunch.
Blanket upon blanket.
Layer upon layer.

“I can’t breathe…”
The soft caress of a cascading, cool gaze.
Crackle. Crunch.
Past your ear, so silent.
Clung to your skin, so delicate.

“I can’t see…”
A suspicious gaze blurred, repelled by a timeless smile.
Crackle. Crunch.
Too good to be true.
Seemingly too pure.

“Blinded…”
Heartbeat stutters smothered, slows, declines in submission.
Crackle. Crunch.
Loyalist’s masquerade.
Perfectionist’s labyrinth.

A glimmer.

A flash, of crimson.

Brushed over with angel’s icing.

Ignorance is bliss.