Fragments of Frost and Fire - Episode 2 - Wounds That Won't Heal

Some words arrive unexpectedly—unattached to any story, yet too vivid to be left unwritten. Over time, I’ve found myself collecting these fragments of poetry, pieces that don’t belong in my novels but still deserve a life of their own in the world.

My blog has already welcomed one of these wandering verses, but Fragments of Frost and Fire is a home for these untethered creations. A space where fleeting thoughts and deeper reflections take form, shaped by ice and flame, stillness and fury, life and loss. Some will stand alone, while others may one day find their place in larger works, but all will linger here, waiting to be felt.


Wounds That Won't Heal

 You flinch,

As It cuts deep,

Opening you up,

Exposing the nerves,

Every wisp of air,

Flowing over the wound,

Triggering those exposed nerves,

Ramping up that pain.

 

But it’s only for a moment,

You hope,

As you close up that wound,

Wrapping it tightly,

So no one can see it.

 

Sometimes the cuts,

Aren’t so deep,

The edge has pulled,

Over time,

But those scrapes,

Hurt more,

Extract pain longer,

Because you didn’t cover the wound,

It has become,

A permanent part of you.

 

Some leave jagged edges,

That can’t be put back together,

An exposed wound,

Left open,

For the world to irritate.

 

Others cut deep,

Reaching to the bone,

You may be able,

To cover and close it,

But it will always show,

In how you move,

And carry yourself.

 

Then there are those,

That don’t cut,

Deep or jagged,

But slowly,

Intensely,

Peel away a protective layer,

The pain unbearable,

Enduring,

Unforgiving.

 

These memories,

Cut like a knife,

A razor,

A blade,

 Not intended to kill,

But to leave a wound,

That will slowly let,

Your life escape your body.

 

These memories,

That you have tried,

Desperately,

To lock away,

Never to get out,

Or be seen,

But in those brief moments,

You let your guard down,

They tumble,

Off that high shelf,

You have hidden them on,

And cut,

Again.


Whispers Between Worlds

The Slow Bloom of Ice

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