The fog waits behind my glass dome. I am protected in my bubble, my own little snow globe. The unnatural predator lurks and stealthily approaches. From the fog a form appears. The fog becomes beauty personified. She is hypnotic and seductive; an entity beyond the reaches of my imagination. It’s cold and white in here as I gaze out. Her promises are lush and vast. As inviting as she may be, she is still a thing to fear. She lies. She is patient and unkind. She leaves desolation & emptiness in her wake. Fool me once the saying goes. I watch her glide her porcelain hands over my glass fortress, searching and listening for cracks. I feel her press herself up against my barriers, skimming her generous hip against the glass. The black of her hair is striking against the flawless ivory that is her skin. Lips and fingertips are stained a vivid red. It is false. It is a distraction, a ploy to bring me near and gaze upon her. The hairs on my arms stand at attention, an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. The reaction is a mixture of terror and awe. I rebuff and turn my back to her, my feeble attempt to keep her away. Flitting back into the thickness it appears she has finally left me to my thoughts. With her, she takes fog. I may not see her, but I feel her sighing inside of my skull, resurrecting memories. She has impeccable timing; her presence is not a coincidence. Low resistance that is all the beckoning she needs. The fog comes back, slow and steady waiting to overtake me. My curiosity is piqued and I approach with caution. My glass dome is strong and present. I see nothing, just fog swirling. Its tendrils begin to reach and press; enticed by my approaching energy. It’s like a magnetized miasma created just for me. It gathers and is focused to the outline of my body. The haze solidifies taking shape. It becomes me. I am her.



My bubble bursts, snow globe broken at the revelation. She strikes quick, jumpstarting my heart. I hear the glass fall around me. The misty wisps invade my defeated fortress. She pours herself down my throat and assaults my senses, fusing herself to my every fiber. My senses are shattered. My eyes are glazed, focused on the dark, the light is snuffed out. I can no longer taste the sweetness of a day, the consumption of bitter regret and futility are strong on my palate. I hear nothing but the melancholic dissonance of



I feel the discontent overtaking me, all my struggles to repair the years of damage have been broken down. The scent of defeat overwhelms me, the brimstone stings and churns my stomach.