December Twenty-Second

He remains unmoved by my words.
Untouched as if made of stone.
Ah, my heart does bleed.
The rigidity of his resolve so chills me that I shall become ice.
A reflection of his dispassionate gaze.
A matrimonial deficit.
The rain pours and still I am untouched.
I stand in it just to wash away Hell's residue from my skin.
I am becoming his duplicate.
If only out of love, I did walk here.
Open arms to his demons and his so called flaws.
His icey perfections what I say are they.
He believes in nothing.
The stone gargoyle on the parapets of my heart.
I do not wish to change him.  
I wish to join him.
His facade revealing nothing,

but everything in a marble eye.

Reviews

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Good piece
Broken hearts can inspire lost minds to write great tales
Applauding your creativity
Peace