Cold

A dance of ivory

Marble stands frozen before me, and it snatches my scarce

Attention to show a simple but detailed

Woman with an attractive but scarcely

Clad man.

 

I inhale, entranced by this woman’s immense

Splendor – a dress floats atop her icy

Skin, her dainty hand holds the silk above her bare

Feet, as to avoid a collapse upon her partner,

Which would, in turn, disturb the luscious curls that outline her perfect face.

 

Bitterness consumes my dry

Tongue while envy twirls scantily

Around my despondent

Heart as I observe the stone’s delicate

Prance. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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