Photo by Z S on Unsplash

The Man of Snow

I dreamt I was free,
free to kiss the man of snow
I could shape him with my lips
and melt him against my hips.

Dreaming my dream of snow
it could feel so pure and real
that every night my love
would tenderly grow

But when I reached for his hand
he stared at me, eyes empty and cold,
from the summit of his cheekbones
as he replied three times NO.

Now my hands are frozen
my head is drowned in the fog
My heart keeps beating in painful numbness
since I touched the man of snow.

This piece was the first poem I posted in Medium, and I was so lucky as to have it published in Poets Unlimited.
Later I added it to my first Poetry collection: Songs for Ghosts (2018).