1 ugly thing, but make it beautiful
The browns and greens meld as the season changes, dragging life away with it. Yet the bushes stand, hacked back, but persevering all the same. Seeds attached to spikes rise in the air, swaying slightly in the breeze. The rustle moves through the foliage, a soft whistle against the noise of the world.
1 beautiful thing, but make it ugly
The fat wet drops, fall and splatter on the ground, leaving a faint slippery sheen. Everything is moistened, and chilled as the unending barrage pummels the ground. The sort of damp that stays, and sticks and leads to slow growing rot and mold.
don’t say what it is
The breeze seeps it into my skin even after the ice has melted and fallen. It works its way into my fingers, making them stiff and pale. The nail beds begin to turn purple as the blood runs, and capillaries close. Goosebumps raise on numb skin, unnoticed and unfelt. A shiver runs from head to tail as the legs grow weaker.
