The Death

It was cold
Too much
She could not do much either,
She parted from her man’s body
And moved away.
It was still – moving not
The ice cone she used to stab him
Was melting slowly in his chest.
Blood was all over the floor
Blood was all over her
She looked around and shivered
Her vision now, was so blur
She removed her gloves and
Threw them in the fireplace.
Banged the door, as she left.
The man?
He died his death
For he trusted, and was betrayed in love!

Written as prompted in Weekend Wordsmith