I used to be snow,
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,
The blackened, twisted monster.
Would you believe me if I said