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.
Silence fits like a glove. Well worn over the years. Our symphony of synchronisation. Comfort in the pauses.
A sliver, a crack.
Almost not there.
I try to cut you. But you are caramel. Oozing, flowing, across, beyond. Layers broken, cracked, remade. Seeping slowly. Moving onwards. Sweetness sticks. I splutter and choke. While you simly reform.
Confetti, my heart falls. Soaring in the bitter cold. Falling crisp as ice. Broken.
Like ink spilled
the fog falls, smudging
consuming the fields.
Hitting the headlights
of cars breaking through.
white streaks burn the sky,
pastels wandering wild
Cold hands touch me. My heart races, skin dances, breath escapes. You are there to catch it. You are there.
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.