Persistent Metaphors

the ice was soft as we took our first steps. it was cold. just not cold enough.

the road stuttered. unable to reconcile our distance. the years a long series of small cuts. producing very little blood. yet revealing so much.

the choke of the day. as it whispers from deep below the frost. about the nature of grief. and the severity of want.

the frozen surface of everything belying the frailty in each step.

time limping toward us. both hero and villain. neither alive nor dead. as its hungry zipper bites at our exposed skin.

the colors soft. the choices loud. as we sell our bridges. to finance our drowning.