winter

the night and the day
are no different in the winter.
it is dark most of the time, and when
there is day, you aren't even sure if it is light.
dim. dreary. like a memory. like a taste
that you attempt to savor, but lose regardless.

winter. where the snow is pure,
so pure that you are afraid to step on it.
but you do anyways. because you want to leave a mark.
only your mark is a scar. and you don't care anymore.
once it's ugly, you pass it by.
it is not perfect any longer.
your lust doesn't last.