Cerulean eyes
sparkle and glisten
on this night of passion.
Sapphire hair
flows and sways
at this very moment.
Through chilling words comes icy breath
from her blue mouth
that speaks falsely.
So cold and beautiful,
she can be…
…like a sweet-smelling icicle
ready to fall.
Like an icy wind,
blowing and chilling me, enter
Iceraline, the
Cerulean Girl.
Note: First published in Harbinger Asylum, this was a poem written by Z. M. Wise who has kindly allowed me to share via my creative medium.
June 29, 2010
Copyright © Z.M. Wise 2010
