Cold

It wasn’t a cool breeze like that on an evening in the Northwoods

But a fear- laden, icy attempt to freeze her own discomfort

She plays hide-and-seek with her bitchiness finding it in those

Convenient times when faced with reality of her past actions

I see her— she cowers at the thought of attempted healing

I know her— she shrinks at the thought of contrition

I’ve been there— that land of self pity

It is rocky, cold

No good can take seed and grow

Feigning comfort, she keeps herself wrapped

In a fluffy blanket of deception harboring her delusions

And only those that validate them

With her self-loathing she deceives

Not others as is her intention

Only herself

She is me before I soaked in the warmth of my flawed life

That now brims with love

Tricia Schwaba