I was the black charcoal eye amid the blanket of stark white snow. The smear of imperfection among the purest of water’s glow. Roaming, I left a track, the only trace that I existed. It slowly covered in each season passed, with the guilt of all that I twisted.
I plowed through the thick mass of icy sting. Losing each sensation under the miles gained. Trudging a labored trench until I was numb surface to bone. Along the way, a forgetful notice of my trail turning from black to gray to none.
Happening upon a break of the common, my eyes met a patch of porcupine trees. In a clearing of all that was my surround I took a moment to listen and see. There I saw myself, polished off from all that I used to know. Tip of tongue catching flaked thoughts as white as new fallen snow.
Inspired by the prompt ‘snow’ at typetrigger.com