The winter smells of
blood,
a rich urgent color
perfectly fresh and
my very essence beckoned to me,
seductive.
The herald of bad news,
of disaster
and scars
yet cold, white burning
pleasure.

Categories: Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: c.eve, dark, dark poetry, eve, ofeve, poem, poet, poetry, shadowofeve, thefirsteve, uncategorized, writing