(no subject)
The snow fees like ash as it flutters onto my face and coat. It is the ash of a hundred dreams, burned in the inferno of reality. The cold bites at my senses, assaulting me, mocking me, reminding me of a warmer time when lives were better. My breath clouds my view of the world. My own breath, the life inside me, is now the fault that makes me blind. The wind whips around, whispering names of long forgotten friends and doomed relationships, my eyes tear… perhaps its just the wind. I tighten my jacket around me, looking for comfort, seeking closure and protection from such unfriendly elements, but I find it does little to protect my exposed person from the outside terrors. I succumb to the winter.