the imminent wreckage of a forthcoming tide

by SecondPrances


us is an echo of an impossibility that was never even there and i am a falsehood

footfall on crisp snow
the biting air
crunch, crunch, crunch
new hoofprints that scar
a barren, untouched landscape
that just a day ago was anything but

Ice crystals form in fur
melt from body heat
and refreeze into pointy spikes
cold, the kind that seeps into skin
and bone and everything
leaving her, the pony
hollow

cold, the kind that
pulls out strands of your soul
stretches them out long
into the bitter air
like entrails left to dry
empty memories and shallow
emotions of him
where it starts and ends
she doesn't know

it's this kind of cold
frigid, unforgiving
where seconds is all you have
it places a perspective on life
when you're trying to dull the pain
where it sinks into your bones and
your soul and everything
all you have is to think
and remember
and walk
crunch, crunch, crunch
so she thinks of him

the time he took her dancing
and it had rained
long and hard so that he had to hold out his
wing to keep her dry
that had impressed her then
something so simple
she wished she had a warm body now

yet when she thought of him
whether it the biting wind or something else
the memory felt as cold as the freshly fallen, frozen snow
billowing in drifts that curved and rose over the hill
catching the sun so as to blind her
white as Celestia
and probably more

cold, like her cottage
the day he'd come over
and they'd stayed by the fire all night
huddling under blankets for warmth
and he'd kissed her
and promised her everything
and she thought she'd give it in return

cold, like
a time before, years ago
when her heart, broken
promised itself never to open again
for anypony else
was she incapable of it
or just too guarded
maybe it was for self preservation
or self-pity?
either way

Finally she stood on the
doorstep of his quaint town-
house and knocked dolefully
He opened it quickly, lit
up and stood aside. It's been
weeks, he said. Why didn't you
call? She held her head down and
looked away and avoided
his startled, shocked gaze. She did
not face him, couldn't look up
at his worried eyes, furrowed
brow so the silence hung and
the cold pierced her bones but she
did not accept his urgent
invitation inside, and
instead they stood out on his
doorstep and said nothing or
until she could work up the
courage.

I don't love you.
I never did.
This life isn't for me,
it's not you
I have to go
I'm sorry.