The day my chin
sliced open on the ice;
that day, i yearned to be numb.
My head was pounding,
my chin stinging
and like the child i was
i drifted into sleep
to nullify the cries of my screaming nerves.
But now?
now i crave the pain of that day
unable to recollect the feelings
in this icy chasm that was once my body
anything to pierce this
skin of indifference i have molded myself
to protect
to hide
to remain untouched.
I thought that to block the sentiments
would be to free myself
to become
impenetrable, yet
the cold creeps inwards
freezes the core
and now i have become
not an older, more learned development of that sleeping child;
but the pool of blood left frozen on the ice
once full of life, now
as faded and forgotten
as the scar left on my face.