Frostbite - poem

My eyes burned with the passing years,
freezing them agape,
emotionless-

Ice building theLens, masking the pain,
showing the Irises with their uncanny
Warmth.

I repeatedly wonder-
the same dreams replay over
and over and over
again;

Some sick cycle stuck on the
spin-of today and yesterday
and today and
Tomorrow(?)

and then-

the f a d i n g v i b r a t i o n s s s .

I am Still.

Yet reeling-forever wondering,
burning inside-but that Fire is deficient
ever more, to melt my disposition;
(regrets)
of the many Yester-hours
and too-long moments ahead.

Carry the torch-
if you dare,
melting each drop of mistake-ridden
encasement.

Unveil Pandora from her paradoxical,
(un)restful Slumber.

But when I wake,
who will be the audience?
Flakes of falling regret-
sheets of Frigidity-
or two palms with the Warmth
my eyes used to display
(the same as that at the Core)?

Is Love still the same?
Or have my frozen memories
distorted Reality
to the point where everything
I perceived as Good, Fulfilling, Kindling-
can solely caress my skin
with the needles of my
Frostbitten Coffin?