I used to be snow,

And you,

A dark stain.


When the winds blew, you changed. The confessions flew from your chest like a flock of doves; avian animals in silver and white which filled the air with an impossible melody.

And you weren’t a dark stain, anymore.


When the ground shook, I changed. The confessions stayed curled in my throat like neglected, caged creatures; blackbirds singing after the rain had stopped with a song that no one would hear.

And I wasn’t snow, anymore.


You became the victim,

And I,

The blackened, twisted monster.


Would you believe me if I said

I’m sorry?


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