It is winter.

In my breast it is winter too.

Icicles live where once beat my heart.

I do not long for spring,

Winter suits me.

Its coldness is bracing, awakening.

It numbs the pain.

Love caused this pain.

I now stand aloof from love,

What need have I for it?

The ice forms patterns on my window.

Beautiful geometric ordered patterns,

A true mathematical beauty.

What need have I for the false beauty of her eyes, her lips?

I lay on my bed to sleep.

No more will I lose myself in dreams.

I sleep the sleep of death,

Stillness, ice, ice, death.

Ice is stillness, solid, unyielding.

Frozen water, frozen tears.

John Exell's poetry was published by Survivors' Poetry in 2006 as part of Survivors' Poetry Mentoring Series. He was mentored by Peter Campbell.

Chosen by Femi Oyebode.