Winter's murder.

Watch out.
Winter’s famished: hunting loneliness.
His frosty spear poised high; ready for attack.
Your pathetic lungs breathe out visible hazes of air,
just to convince the heart that you’re still alive.
Barely living, personally invisible,
camouflaged against every surface for survival.
In winter we all get closer to the corpses,
skin taking hold of a grayish tinge.
Eyes are burdened with carrying the night
beneath drained stares.
Freezing dejection brings happiness to the brink;
digging a crooked finger nail into his back.
Happiness hands the fight to his opponent on a silver plate,
unashamedly collapsing inwards immediately.
Waves of rejected emotions drown him in pity.
Waxen crystallized coatings maul the landscape,
as a vindictive mask.
A land of flawless canvases,
You respectfully open veins to mark your place
in bold blood, a statement from the heart.
One backward glance reveals a trail of footprints;
each one the revolting colours of past mistakes.
Tears freeze in the air mid-fall;
Breaking into brittle broken shards,
that slice flesh open savagely.
They find the body in the morning,
tormented eyes wide open in a final scream.
Winter was convicted of murder.