The snowflakes taste my burn in the air
And swallow it swirling down to Earth
Gone their whispered songs of softness
learned from a heart half grown
Now sounding loud in the gray city painted February white
with the long scream of defeat
the bastard child of October’s deep breath.

Secrets are raising foundations out there
Poured from snowflakes’ screams in place of concrete.
Squat and ugly with no basements
Cold seeping through hollow-core doors.
A cold too sharp to hold
Piercing to my softness
I spring winter leaks of bravery
Too deflated to hear what the screams are saying.
It may be ghost stories about me they are telling,
But I am too afraid to listen for the ending.