Saturday, February 2, 2013

Fires of Brigid

She was cold;
I might say frigid.
There seemed to be no outward signs
To suggest this.
Her eyes were dutifully turned away
Concentrating on the task at hand.
Icy,
She was,
With a coldness that dug deep,
Freezing through a warm exterior.

Half a face comely,
And half a face not.

Deceptive.
Behind a veil of warmth,
She was cold;
I might say frigid.

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