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
you homebound for
days lost in the blinding
whiteness of her righteous anger
whiteness of her righteous anger
The blizzard of words was
always new, a
nuance or phrase would form
like a fresh
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
