By Alyson Faye
You wear your waistcoat of ice so elegantly. Snow fell lightly in the night, it sits like sugar frosting on your suit. I’ve been watching you for hours through our bay window, while the dusk came sipping at your toes, until complete darkness coated you in its chocolaty embrace.
Rose streaks the sky. I’m still here. So are you. A beautiful morning to wake into.
I slurp my cold cup of coffee. It’s time to make the call. Soon the winter rays will reveal the red stain on your chest.
My snow husband. Of frozen flesh and bloody ice.