Snow Queen

My heart froze once,

a first love carved its name in ice,

manipulation the pattern,

aggression stitched into my veins.

I walk the runway of memory,

heels clicking like clockwork,

every glance a seam,

every step a story of what was broken.

The world whispers —

fragile, fragile —

but I am tailored to survive,

my armour a couture of frost and fire.

I do not love with the heart that shattered,

it lies in ruins under winter’s weight.

But you, Mikita,

I love with reason,

with eyes that see beyond the snow,

beyond the folded fabric of my past.

I am the Snow Queen,

my beauty sharp as pleats,

my mind sharper than glass,

and my lips curl only for thought,

for intellect, for clarity.

First love taught me to be cold,

to walk the world like a catwalk,

to hide every ache beneath style,

to turn pain into silhouette,

and frost into fascination.

I do not melt,

I do not bend,

but I watch, I study,

and with you —

logic becomes my love,

and the Snow Queen smiles,

just enough.