every flake falling
instills a bit of jealousy
to be so soft and beautiful
to be so shining in quiet falling
all the things i can never seem to find
staring in the mirror at her

she seems serene enough
violin heartbeats in her smile
as her eyes betray the slight curve of her mouth
she'd never achieve porcelain status
but there are hints of stained glass
pinned to the curve of her neck
hiding behind the curtain of hair
her unfailing shield of defense

and if she moves just right
they wink like broken stars
as they fall expiring upon her spine
yet for a moment i can almost believe
the storm has infused under her pulse
tattooed its grace beneath her collarbones
hinting that her lips are sincere
in some sort of calm ease

and even when i shattered her image
unable to bear the illusion longer
the dust that settled
seemed more lovely
than i could ever
hope to be

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