Melting within a sea of white, I open my eyes, hoping to see the sun.

Behind glowing towers and softly carved leaves drooping from swaying trees, a red torch sears my skin and I let it brush, tickle, soak into me, until I taste its blood.

Blue holes seep into the rubble of clouds, desperate to become victorious, my heart yearns for victory, yet victory will not prevail. 

I’m rooted to the ground, buried in the depths of snow and soil, wishing I could play snow angels in the stiffness.

The cracks reach for me.

Slipping away from plump pink fingers, I tilt my face forward, puckering chapped lips, awaiting a kiss that will never come.

The sun, the heavens, they cry for me.

Hell shines ahead, slithering until it burns my skin so passionately, we fold into one.

Snow and rain come and go, battering my torch until I see nothing but faded grey.

This fear I have, happiness always above and never ahead, perfect paradise in the worst place, booms before my eyes, a bomb so loud and clear, I must turn and stare, stare at the hell on my skin and the hell that now surrounds me, days and nights slowly slipping from fumbling fingers. Oh, to be desperate for that kiss, that kiss again will keep me trapped in a sea of darkness. 

It’s too late to play snow angels in the stiffness.

I slip into the cracks.