Fairy Lights
In the frigid darkness of winter, the fairy lights will reflect in your glazed eyes.

Tumbling down, fluttering on a cold arctic gale,
It arrives.
The tormenting emptiness of yesterday’s memories
Kiss my eyelashes with ice and snow
And cling
To reddened, raw cheeks numb to the snarling wind,
Immune to the treacherous trails of ice
Tracking down to blue lips covered in broken whimpers,
The spilled blood of last year.
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For now, it is winter, and the word blossoms on my tongue.
It is beautiful in this vast wasteland of white.
Carcasses lie untouched, sleeping peacefully with fur that
Dances delicately in the crosswinds.
The winter tide that brushes across the barren earth
Touched by blue moonlight, painted with diamonds,
Pets their warm skeletons and welcomes the dead
Into the open,
Forgiving arms of naked oak trees.
_____________________________________
The pines and the firs and even the maples stand dark
Against the blinding world turned to all that glitters.
In their stark nakedness, they spiderweb across the bleak sky,
Fracturing the blazing monotony of white.
When a great gale whips down from the North
They shudder. Creak. Bemoan their struggles.
Never do they crack.
Not the way my frozen bones have splintered
Tucked beneath my flesh.
_____________________________________
Raging tufts of white call to me as slivers
Of silver moonlight, fragmented by the sky,
Slice across my face with unyielding hunger
For warm blood, not yet dead dreams.
And I cannot help but wonder, will this be the place
My eyes turn skyward and watch the sunrise
For the last time?
_____________________________________
Laid bare in the snow, a white casket with burial flowers
Tumbling from the heavens,
Stretched across the tundra and vanishing into a bundle
Of wool and leather and stolen fur,
Will that be how I am remembered?
A bookmark between the pages of January
With crystal decorating my skin so cold and frozen
That it reflects the flashing holiday lights of meteorites.
The Christmastime fairy lights.
_____________________________________
Silver Serpent Books
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About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
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