Skin of Winter

Skin of Winter

Snow collapsed against the porch

The wind dragged branches down the roof

Inside the house the radiators

Coughed like dying animals

I pressed my forehead to the pane

Watching strangers cross the road

Each face looked hollow in the storm

Like souls escaping ruined flesh

Your letters burned inside the grate

Orange fire stained the room

Their words curled inward one by one

Leaving smoke beneath my nails

Morning entered pale and weak

Ice covered every window frame

I touched my arm and felt no warmth

Only skin made out of winter

The hallway smelled of frozen wood

Old coats hanging near the stairs

Every room held silent frost

Creeping slowly through the dark

A cracked cup rested near the sink

Thin ice forming at the rim

I watched my reflection fade

Inside the water’s silver skin

The sky remained an endless gray

No birds crossed the empty trees

Even the streetlights seemed to dim

Beneath the weight of bitter cold

By dusk my hands turned numb and white

My breath drifted slow through the room

Winter wrapped around my bones

Like loneliness refusing death

#Marie381UkWriter