Frozen Innocence.

 "Have you tasted death?"
asked the pale boy,with his body silhouetting winter trees.

The small girl's hand lifted and moved across the air, as if tracing old winds...
Her head moved up and down, responding to the curious boy.

"I have, but death is timely.
Death is a perfect line...like this."

She took his left  wrist and traced the same wind...
he closed his eyes, because it was familiar...

"What about murder?" he whispered..

Her blue eyes fixed upon his closed eyes...and she brought 
his hand to the top of his head...

"murder is the most timely"
moving his hand down his closed eyelids

"The murder of the soul, is a story in each breath of wind."

her hand reached his neck...

"Murderous stories, live in my fathers hands...
right here....."

she gently pressed his cold palm against his neck and curled his fingers around his neck.....and he flinched....

he opened his eyes, and noticed the wind had blown off her scarf....

Dull red, orange, blue, and purple....stained her pale neck....

"We have both tasted death... "

Look at our clock....it is perfect.
Our souls murdered..
our love murdered
but in this iced world...
against these black trees..


he looked into her blue eyes, and the sunrise faded into his pupils.