Cold front

They say no two snowflakes 

are exactly alike 

Her cold fronts were the 

same way: the 

biting fury rolled in like 

the kind of 

winter storm that would leave 
you homebound for 

days lost in the blinding 
whiteness of her righteous anger

The blizzard of words was 

always new, a 

nuance or phrase would form 
like a fresh 

barb on an ice crystal 

that would land 

crisp on your skin, stick 

and burn. So 

perfect. So precise. So cold 

it would chill your bones