Elisabeth Writing

Sharing an old proem because it went with the pictures. I’m thinking I might try to publish some poetry. Thoughts? I love you all 💕

I was the Snow Queen once, with a heart of frost. When it cracked, thunder, there was only a dark night sky without stars. There would be no wishes made there, no shooting emblems of Hope. 

But they made me that way, with false promises, with stinging salt lips that only ever spoke lies or hurled insults, with paint smeared across my body and the walls, with guitar chords that plucked at my ribcage until the tremors made me bleed, with a monstrous disease that ate away at the warrior in my life until he was barely a shell of himself with hollowed out eyes and rasping lungs. 

I went to an icy place, the heaviest darkness, where few survived and where no one lived. I ripped at myself until snow and magic flowed into me, a liquor that burned cold, not hot. I thought I’d die from it, but at least I’d die within my own emptiness. I survived, and rose up a Queen. A Queen who could no longer feel the ache of loss, a Queen who could no longer cry. I was numb, blessedly, quietly numb, my whole body encased in ice. 

You shouldn’t have come in with your wet eyes and your warm tears, with your beating heart and your tender love. No one has loved me like that since I was a teenager, not since a lion let me stroke and tidy his mane, ride astride his back and prowl the wilderness. But I hurt him in the end, and then he hurt me. That was the vicious cycle of my life, and why I had to quit feeling – quit feeling so much, too much, god it hurts to feel this goddamn much! I just couldn’t take it anymore. But you… you heard the legends, and you knew inside this frosted body was just a woman who had been hurt. Someone you could maybe love. 

I’m crying today, for the first time in many moons. The tears have been building up in me for weeks, pulsing at me with all the insistence of the ocean until my body breaks and my eyes leak and my face crumples with sorrow. You’ve done that to me. I’m vulnerable in a way I haven’t been in so long, and part of me wants to be the Snow Queen once more, safe in the cocoon of her loneliness.

I’m afraid to love someone this much, it’s true; always afraid that you’ll be taken from me, or I’ll run away in my fear and ignorance and lose you forever. I read my favorite poets by the light of the moon and this full heart sucks at the words like food and water, what this dreamer lives on, more than even that. I write to you, about you. I try not to hide the words, though they make me feel exposed to your whips and knives- the ones you’ve never used on me, not once. I should be less afraid, but I can’t. I’ve been taught that men will suck you dry, and I’m waiting for the sharp incisors to prick my neck. Love, I was told, is a curse.

I guess I’m cursed.

In a new way now, with letters and sweet smiles and roving hands against this bright, beautiful body. Cursed, to feel.

And this Snow Queen is no more.