Frozen girl. Winter girl. They want a map of your mind, of your heart. They can’t climb your icy slopes. Maybe this is your ivory tower. Give them snow, sometimes hail. Give them a hard time. They broke more than your bones. And when they try to inspire something — some kind of warmth, or overflow — give them cold. You know how. Have taught yourself how. And it’s pretty, but it burns to touch. And you’re pretty, but they’ve had enough. Enough of your frost without the bite. Always kept your mouth to yourself, your straight white teeth — never showed them, thought they’d think you weak. And you always knew things like love so well, though they wouldn’t have guessed. Your unplowed streets. Your white lace dress. Frozen girl. Winter girl. Careful not to melt.