It\'s easier to hurt yourself in the winter,
To hide a jaded soul behind the itchiness of a pea coat.
It\'s easier to let a vibrant set of eyes turn
To mushy black, tarnished by heavy footsteps.
It\'s easier to stare at the gray and let time slip, melt - ironically - warm and gooey like honey.
The bruises and aching you\'ve done is smothered
Mercilessly by fabric like drapes
Slung all over your body.
Can you bleed like the sky?
Shed your eggshell skin?
Can you turn into the slush of unforgiving boots?
In winter, the world idles.
The world stops turning, and spring can never quite soften your snow.