Frozen Teardrops #titlechallenge Frozen teardrops Fall from her mind's eye Dancing, naked, down her neck Tearing down, like ripping newspaper. Hairs poised, (S)hackles lowered, Party forgotten, She spies him, And with her string-smoke tentacles, Dangling up from her boozy, damp breath she draws him (in), like a dagger. And in her brain, the mouth of a cave bares it's teeth. She tries hard to coax him, but his eyes are not into it. She can see him, just a casual dart-glance over her shoulder. It hits her stomach like a blow. Her insides feel small, knowing he is looking elsewhere. She imagines that he Is captivated by something exploding behind her. Exploding like in a film. Exploding in the middle distance. But he's not. She'd lie If she had to. And she tries, Ah, but too late, now like crying wolf to a zoo. She tries, oh she tries. But he has other plans. Plans that haven't had too much to drink, like she. And those plans are surely waiting for him, draped over beds, for him to study, like a warm map. The teardrops feel warm now, as they form to drip upwards off her eyes. She inhales, smelling the cigarette smoke with the back of her mouth. She's making for the door. She will not dare to point her head up, for she could stain her eyes with a kindly glance. The music has become louder. The people quieter. The room lighter. The echoes darker. And so She is alone. Alone and Feeling fresh as a daisy pusher. And she sinks to the ground, wrists powerless. Her hands grab at the carpet like a kneeling kid's at dry grass. Her knees kiss. Her hair plummets down past her steady-blinking eyes. Like a paper from a printer. Her shoulders shake on the in-breath. Her nose escapes her. She feels ashamed, and wants to break. She gets up. Blows her nose, eyes, mouth. Makes for the other door. Next morning, frozen teardrops are found lying dead, stiff and sprawled outside in the decaying December air. They've been lying there for some time. So has she.