A bitter wraiths breath curls forward
washing all before it in blue-black rivulets
seeking the havens of crevices and corners.
"shrink back!" screams your skin, roiling
their feathery fingers licking dead trees
bark splintering and splitting into remneants
of lost dreams and forgotten hopes.
I chase thee.
Frost tipped wings unfurl
kissing the sky with lavender lips
caressing her ebb and flow, touching whorls
and whims of coriolic decree
and she lifts up, she creates, she destroys
without a second glance behind her bony shoulder
knowing that I will never reach her.
I race thee.
Pull the tattered folds of this greatcoat closer
worming toungues of lies threatening resolve
of the thin fabric that shields me from the baleful glare
of a pale gray wintersun
that spits wan rivers of white gold
shafting the needling slants of silver
with unrequited love.
I face thee.