rusted trees reap broken colors.
losing limbs and leaves and beauty
as cold shatters its barked veins.
never letting up to warmth
the trees grew weak.
happiness is only as good as you
squared edges don’t match up
she gets jealous of the dying.
she wishes for spring.
i once knew a girl.
a girl with torn limbs
the type that come after unexpected snowstorms and icicles born from rain.
she gave the world herself.
the world gave her shattered souls and broken glass hopes.
never letting up to see her light
just bringing storms without the raincoat.