Smoke rolls into the sky stretched overhead. Spirits vanish with it, dissipating in their smoky cloaks before they can be caught. A snowflake, microscopically perfect and unique, kisses my cheek and melts, wasting away on the hollow shell my skin covered. My hair is vaguely paler now, but my frame stands out from the snow covered sidewalk. The house I stare at stretches in front of my eyes, menacingly, yet striking no fear.
I set a scene in my head. A vast whiteness that hurts to see.
This is a house I know and a house I hate. Because it shelters a body I know; a body I hate. Memories have buried themselves in the very foundation. Dreams stuck to spiderwebs and cocooned. Nasty whispers linger in my ears from the way the walls gossiped. My legs can't will themselves to move this time, my blank expression too focused on swirling details. My hidden monstrosities crawl from the cracks in my mind and gasp out their personal opinions. Scars adorning once complemented skin demand attention, harsh reminders bleeding into my brain.
I paint delicate monotones and blue laces on my cold, shivering, naked body. The empty excuse of a sky follows suit and my eyesight blurs.
Ice that crept up my spine cracks on joints and my core is allowed to warm. I reach up to wipe away moisture left by the goodbyes of snow on my face, letting color return to my cheeks. Demons and lost causes, abandoned aspirations and lingering bruises; they all vanish with the smoke, in the light of a loving apathy. I no longer feel anything towards this house. This house that I knew, this house that I hated, sheltering a body I knew, a body I hated.
I clutch at the ground and cry out all my pain. I want to be painted anew. Erased and tried again. Tears run the inky paint.
Without any thought, I turn and continue down the sidewalk. Whatever name I had known, I forgot, and whatever feelings I had felt went with it. My hand subconsciously draws to my neck. Maybe I'll buy a new muffler on the way home.