Whitney

a fist
a fight,
Anger.
my bark
my bite,
Anger.

I bite through my bark,
what do you do?

Winter leaves in a flourish of white. Shivering, huddling people pray for summer. Soaking up the first rays of sun, we dance. Shedding tears of joy we cry out for more. Delivered late as mail always is yet welcomed with open arms.

Mascara,
to thicken nonexistent lashes.Racoon eyes,
mascara running from a nonexistent gaze.
 
Concealer,
to cover the "imperfections"
to blend into the world of "pretty" people. Patchwork,

Eyes cold as ice,
fur a frosty white.
Polared, cold and snowy
fate rolls the dice.

Wind ferociously slashing
at a heart already torn,
wolverines stare, awaiting,
the storm,
to be reborn
 

Closest to God any mortal can be,
Dressed in nature's serene embrace.
Engaged with the whispers of the trees and the dirt beneath my feet.
Finding self-fulfillment through my eyes.