Blooming Snow

Trembling frame;
His anemic soul-
Bled.

Trailing along,
Blood spattered-
Leaving behind,
Red prints,
On the snow-
Footprints.

The winter chills,
Cloaked his self-
With warmth.

The snow-
It held his weight,
A support.

Walking on,
The misty December's morn,
It turned cyanotic -
His soul thirsty,
Frost settling all over.

Aching limbs,
He held on-
Pulling himself up,
He walked-

Carrying the Corpse,
Onto the graveyard,
Hidden under-

Waiting for the sun drops,
To melt the snow,
To bury his Love-

Deep.

(The snow, had after all, Bloomed-

Red...

...Stained, in his Love.)