His Cold Caress

Winter is hungry, again. He coats the town in silver, a glisten as he bares his teeth. His cruel wind biting at hands, turning, chasing, snapping wildly. He sees you walking through the morning frost. Welcomes you with an unforgiving slap in the face. Pinching, pulling, grasping with his savage hold. Head down you power on. Slipping on his silver, dancing to his song. He is strong. He is power. Each step is hard. Each step is fierce. Bitter cold. The sun gleams. Weak in the winter. The sun gleams. Pastel powder breaking slowly. Breaking. Slowly.

Star gazing

We stood on top of the hill. The city lights glistened below. Like stars dropped from the skies.

Just moments from home yet a different world. Up here the moon shined fierce, the cold bit harder. The shadows screamed. 

Up here the earth was strong. 

Hushed whispers ran through the grass. Howling wind slapped our faces. Charcoal trees laughed in darkness. Gnarled branches scratched our skin.

Our soft flesh scraped and tattered, we became something else. 

Eyes burned ebony whirlpools. Limbs stretched, wings emerged. We took flight into the night. Another shadow, another scream.