With Painted Words

Her Frozen Heart

by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

“Just forget you ever saw it. It’s better that way”—David Lynch

 

I still see her stopping at the corner

leaving our disillusioned quarrel on

ice, again. Instead of fuming at her

familiar silence, I watched her staring

at the ground, sensing a glaring that

would soon inspire another calling.

Reaching into her leather coat pocket

she gripped her blade, licking the tip to

soften each slice, instead of answering me,

she was moved to persuade the ice to stay

glowing in place. It cut me watching her,

black skirt wet from the snow, as she knelt

on the curb staring at her heart, knowing

all her work would melt— at first daylight;

holding up my cell, I wanted to capture

a snapshot of creation with my phone, but

she stopped me holding up your shivering

hand. Let it dissolve, she finally spoke

whispering, better to keep this frozen

corazon memory on ice. She resisted,

playingwith the blade, putting it away

as her heels echoed, closer to our end

we both knew it was more than too late,

slowly walking away from on the street,

at least I’ll remember the sound and you

not stopping me… Even now, strolling past

that same corner, I can still feel her distant

voice like the icecrackled, wanting to explain

why she sculpted a heart, with cold breath

smoke coming from her lips, she said—

…and I knew how the concrete felt.