Linda M. Crate

built from flame
i did not
see
the danger in flirting
with winter,
and you had an air of mystery
in those intriguing blue
eyes;
usually i don´t like blondes
but you were different
than all the others i had met
before you
there was actual substance and not
simply an arrogance of beauty—
and so the raven fell
for the wolf
without knowing the danger
or that wolves can turn in an instant
you broke my wings
forgetting my talons and one day
when we meet again there will be war
i will be the victor
for i am no longer the rabbit hearted girl
you left behind to die in the ice and snow.