Frozen

The wind scrubs the sidewalk as the street lights bleach it. Only with that contrast do I notice how dark my heart has become. The ice is in my veins and I care not about cold. The crystals make up an elaborate design to distract while you slip. Laying on the ground, concussion in full force, it steals from you; life, your warmth, your blood, frozen into something that will not return.

My fingers are frozen now, yet that does not bother the unfeeling. My blood is thickening, although it still flows. My heart is darkening, but that is for a different reason.

The street lights bleach the sidewalks that hide the ice. And that is the contrast I need.