Words

Is it really easier to break,
than communicate?

Oh god, what have I done?
My light, my sun

would rather shatter into a black hole,
than expose to me her soul.

I've gone and broken the social tool,
oh such a fool,

for how valuable the jester who cannot entertain,
or doctor fix brain?

Our one recourse, my link to you, 
alas there are so few.

Oh god, what have I done?
my light, my sun,

tosses restlessly in her sleep, chased,
by demons with my face.

I don't know what to do. I'm lost.
Creeping, migrates the frost,

of cold terror, enshrouding my flesh
forming a camouflage mesh,

white and hard. Armor, weapon, mask.
"won't you thaw me?" I ask.