her face is porcelain in winter’s grip —
frost clawing her cheeks,
bloody tears sliding like slow-red glass.
her eyes,
wide and hollow-bright,
don’t belong to anything human.
they see,
but they do not feel.
 
in her hands,
a rose frozen solid,
its petals sharp as broken mirrors.
she cradles it anyway.
it cuts her palms,
but pain is just warmth
wearing a different mask.
 
she didn’t stumble into this cold.
she built it.
a kingdom of stillness
where nothing moves,
where nothing can hurt.
she told herself it was safer this way.
 
but frost never lasts forever.
the sun doesn’t ask permission to rise.
there will be cracks in the ice.
there will be drip,
then flood.
her hands will thaw first.
then her heart.
and the rose will open
like a mouth full of breath.
like a promise
finally kept.
 
____________________
 
high detailed png.-File
10752 x 7168 Pixel
 
- You can use it as a Phone or Desktop Background
- Print up to a scale of 33 x 46 inches / 85 x 120 cm