Sharp Snow

12.10.14

You covered the truth
in white blankets of snow,
fluffy flakes that pierced
the skin of anyone
who tried to dig too deep.

Red stains and inner pains
taint the purest form of water,
hiding secrets like bodies --
your skeletons
were never buried in the closet.

Like icicles, they froze
until someone came along
and stepped on them,
unknowingly shattering
the only evidence left behind.

My bones ache from the cold,
voice stolen by the bitter wind --
unable to shout or move
as I am covered by dark snow.