How long until your frozen body turns to snow?

How long until the icicles growing out of your neck and into your lungs spread brittle frostbite into your pretty little brain until all that’s left is fragile and dead?

Your form is nothing but an echo; petrified, beautiful, and hollow. 

You could look right through that window of ice where your skull sits and see the world changed and glassy. 

Is it truly distorted, or are you just seeing clearly for the very first time?

It does not matter.

Soon you will collapse and the cracks will start to gain control, 

and your gelid, hardened pieces will fall to the ground like rain

and you will melt away into the runoff. 

Frost glazes over you; 

a blanket of chilled lace gloving your hands and covering your ears.

It’s almost daylight now, where will you go?