Snow falls on us both; cooling your skin, cooling my diminishing rage.
Your body heat (what remains of it) is gently stolen by each floating flake. The delicate crystals landing on your upturned face thaw and liquefy, pooling around your eyes and mixing with the blood there.
These pools fill; overflow. Pale, sin-tinted water trails your cheeks, pink wintery tears that flow and bead on each earlobe. Icicles like rose diamond earrings.
As the snow falls, it covers. Covers your blood like I never hit you. Covers your body like you never existed.
Covers my footsteps as I walk away.
Ugh, I am a terrible blogger/wannabe writer/person (probably) at the moment (always). Found it very hard to get motivated to write anything, and am only managing a few short posts each week… perhaps its impending 40-year-oldness? On this topic, I saw this tweet today, and it was so personally poignant I laughed out loud (died inside):
People say you are what you eat, but I don’t remember eating someone in their thirties who hadn’t accomplished any of their dreams.
— Sarcasticsapien (@Sarcasticsapien) May 19, 2015
Ha ha ha. Good times.
Anyway, a short and bleak 100 words for you today – make of it what you will, but let me know what you think!