My gaze froze as I looked at her pale face,
a canvas etched with shadows,
the remnants of a sun once bright.
Her eyes, dulled mirrors reflecting
the abandoned dreams of yesterday,
whispering stories only the wind
dares to carry.

Her body, caught in cold, rusty wires,
an embrace that binds,
not in solace, but in silence,
each twisted metal frame
a reminder of the weight of the world,
the forgotten, the lost,
suspended in time's relentless grip.

I see the faint tremor of her breath,
like leaves shivering at dusk,
fragile and ephemeral,
yearning for warmth,
for the soft touch of sunlight’s caress,
but what remains is the chill
of a forgotten promise.

In that moment, stillness wraps around us,
the air heavy with unspoken words,
and I reach out,
not to sever the wires,
but to understand,
to connect the fragments of her pain
with the pulse of life's remaining thread.

Somewhere in the distance,
the echoes of laughter fade,
replaced by the haunting lullaby
of abandoned hopes,
yet I hold her gaze—
a fragile truth,
an invitation to feel,
to rise from the ruins
woven in despair.

For in the heart of every frozen moment,
there lies the possibility of thaw,
a spark hidden beneath the layers,
waiting for the dawn

Tomaž Jevšenak