First Snow

He was drooling. Sermons written in saliva. Each swallow a chapter. Hotels made of dirty snow and footprints left behind. Cold rooms full of coal eyes measuring me with their stares. The thick mascara of broken men depositing their black tears on the beds we've shared. As though there were anything other choice.

Sucking down the smoke in shallow inhales. Outside the place. Outside the shopping bag full with static manipulations of frailty and flesh. The sandpaper of the wind eroding corners once sharp. Oncoming headlights puncturing my debate.

If I was wrong I'd find out soon enough.

I bundled the comforter into my arms and quietly nursed it down the staircase. To be cleansed. Remembering the blizzard outside as my feet made contact with the ground floor. So many similarities to what had just transpired upstairs.

I watched the water as it pissed into the tub. Turning my red blush into a slutty pink lipstick. A filthy waterfall of consequence. A snowman. Caught in the thaw. Holding out its shaky twig arms to catch its falling smile.