Poetry is about making your audience feel.

Watching they're eyes become balls of sympathy.

Watching hot water fall slowly down their cheeks.

How does the cold girl warm up?

She does it very slowly.

She does it quietly. 

She uses the ice in her memory banks to cool her exterior long enough to get out of sight.

Someone opened the windows to her soul and now the truth is drafty.

In her closet she bleeds.

On her bed she silently screams and punches her pillows.

She watches as the others spill themselves onto her.

They all call her blue.

Blue 

Blue is a cold color on thermal readings.

Blue is also genre of music.

Blues is the color of sadness.

You can't tell me she doesn't feel, 

Because frostbite is a bitch.

She wears a warm smile while it eats her alive.