Your hush falls bitter cold as snow
and congregates at my feet.
They fail to fall with any truth,
You lie to me by omission.
Once our words were infinite
and poetry would rain, our flowers
our seeds of truth would grow.
How quickly seasons change.
This snow, this silent killer of love
It buries us in achrome
With each word unspoken
I die a bit more.
Erst I saw a land clear of white
Honesty warmed my core
I breathed unfogged
All lies would melt.
But, still, you do not speak
Blinded by snow I know
that in this sickening, delusive blanch
the seeds of silence here is sowed.
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