the snow this morning reminded me of you.
a few soft kisses of cold at first,
melting across my hands and cheeks.
eventually turning into a gorgeous and deadly storm
strangling life out of anything beneath the ever-falling drift of silent flakes.
Cold, February 5th 2017
YOU ARE READING
PROSE
Poetrythe pen may be mightier than the sword, but that sword certainly thirsts for more blood (if you like me, vote me if you love me, show me)
