This night is so cold
I think the sky will crack like glass, like ice, against these frostbitten winds.
I’m biting my nails,
and these biting winds eat away at my goosebumps,
antagonizing them,
agonizingly
probing beneath my skin, my nails, invading my veins,
poisoning my bloodstream
like a pressurized cabin in high altitudes; and I feel so fragile,
so delicate,
I think surly,
surly
the moon will
burst in the presence of this night.

My existence,
this moment,
an egg balanced on a —pin
could topple any second.
When will I splinter into pieces like the stars?
Oxygen so sharp
that I am pressed into its molecules; I am arctic
like the atmosphere…
…where does it end and I begin?
My blood freezes to half a
mile
an
hour.
My smile iced over,
I swear the pulse of the minute hand.
Ends.
Yet my heart rate accelerates the only muscle in my body able to move!
My knuckles are white, my feet brittle,
and my mind weary,
but my heart beats on, living, hoping,
dancing in the chill,
making snow angels between my ribs.