Snowflakes;

Fragile

yet elegant coat her,

nonchalant and magical.

How far

before

her legs give way and her blood turns cold?

One step

and her boots sink deep into the icy field of white.

Drifting.

Like so many times before, you welcome me with open arms. I give you a firm hug, a hug that says I’ve missed you. You laugh and smile, but I know that it’s not for me.

It doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s the smile you give to strangers, to people wheeling past.

Remember the times when we laughed about how our professors spoke with a weird voice? Or that time when you slept over at my place and we talked about deep topics? You had opened your heart to me back then.

What about now?

With withering hands, I hold on tight to the jewel that has been my life’s treasure; with politeness you throw it into the horizon like a skipping stone.

In the dark, midnight sky, I watch as it falls like a shooting star.

Ghostly.

Her wrinkled hands tightened around the black rubber handle of her walking stick. Blue purple veins ran from her knuckles to her wrists. She took one trembling step, and another.

Short silver curls framed her heart-shaped face. The silver was like moonlight and her once smooth skin was etched with years of worrying and hard work. A scarf wrapped itself tightly around her neck, its ends tucked away safely under her cardigan.

She had an arched back from years spent in the fields. She and her lover, Mike, would often joke about how she was, really, the hunchback of notre dame.

She lowered herself into her favourite bench, the one that faced a wide open field and had a playground on its left. She would often spend her days watching the children, listening to their laughter and sounds of play.

More often, however, were wailing screams of unfairness.

She would watch the seasons change as trees went stark naked and yet became full again. In the summer there were flowers everywhere, children everywhere. In the winter, it was generally quieter, a time when the town became a serene paradise.

She had one daughter, Sara. The night before Sara was born, she and Mike had been arguing about Sara’s name. Mike wanted Anna and she had wanted Serena.

And then came the gruelling labours and she spent hours panting with tubes stuck in her arms. So they’d both decided to take 2 letters–she chose S and R and Mike of course, had to choose double As–and ended up with Sara.

Sara was beautiful. She had Mike’s auburn hair and her hazel green eyes, his determination and her feisty stubbornness.

She would often watch Sara play in the playground and her bubbly laughter was always the loudest. They had both loved swings.

Her daughter grew and changed, just like the seasons. Soon, she and Mike were alone again, in a house that now seemed empty and enormous.

Then, Mike was gone. They said it was cancer.

Wrinkled leaves were by her feet and she stared at them, lost in thought.

When are you coming to take me, Mike?

Dark Night

You took him away
and I cried–
we cried.

Grief-stricken and heart broken,
with hoarse voices we called out:
Why! Why?

The ruthless wind
lifted his ashes high,
swallowed by the night.

The stars shone and the high tide
swept him away
like a soft, sweet lullaby.
Oh,

with wounds still fresh
and broken flesh,
we prayed for that secret
better place.

Facade.

“Heyy!”

That’s how it always starts. Always, with her shrill, overly cheerful greeting that is two octaves higher than it really should be. I feel the usual throb in my ear and wince as I prepare for the next torrent of soprano pitched, glass shattering how-have-you-been-s.

“I’ve been great! Just a little busy here and there, you know,” I reply with a forced smile. A little vagueness helps from time to time I suppose. It helps when I’m trying to protect the last shred of privacy I have left over my life. My eyes unconsciously follow the diamond-studded silver ring on her finger–her left ring finger. She flicks her shiny, ebony hair and it swishes as it sweeps just past her shoulder in perfect, soft waves.

“I’ve been great too! Did you know that recently John and Emma have gotten engaged? And there’s Trix and Hodgson….” She talks animatedly with her thousand-volt smile. Her voice unintentionally trails off into the back of my mind, where it becomes a constant hum, like the hum a refrigerator gives off in the middle of the night.

“…Jane?”

A deep, gentle baritone snaps me back to reality. My hazel eyes lift and meet his striking blue orbs. An all too familiar magnetism traps me. I feel the empty plastic cup I’ve forgotten about slip from my fingers. It hits the ground with a muted thud.

“Whoops.” He bends down and picks up the cup in one smooth, fluid motion.

My head yells in panic as the thud resounds in my heart. The wall of my defences cracks like glass. It grows and spreads like an ugly web and it branches out like a dead, withered tree. I manage a small “Thank you” as I try to breathe normally. Slow inhales and exhales. Now it’s his turn to start with the how-have-you-beens.

I repeat my answer, but he is a natural-born vagueness detector. He gives me that look with an arch of his eyebrow. I feel my breath hitch and for half a second I am overwhelmed, compelled to let him in, to drown in his warmth. He always gave me that look whenever I was keeping something from him. I always gave in.

“Congratulations,” I find myself saying as I smile and hold my arms out. He gives me a puzzled hug and she follows suit. “I’m so happy for you guys!” I pat them both softly on the back and try to fight the whoosh of sadness that brushes past me.

Berserk.

Hey
You call out to me, pleading with your green orbs that I was once so enthralled by. You smile, confident that I’ll be okay. That it’ll be okay.

We play pretend like nothing ever happened, like so many times before.

It’s enough, stop it. Fxxk off

Suddenly, my name sounds like a rat in the sewers. Dirty and disgusting. I don’t know what I feel, what I should feel. Is it anger? It’s a murky river. Rain starts falling and I watch as it drenches everything–

There’s a roaring fire, magnificent as it shines red yellow orange

tears brim at the edges of my eyes and I watch it destroy you with its destructive lick
in my mind.