Her memories have matured, thawed beneath winter’s deep freeze.
His december eyes held depravity inside, and now her pen bleeds as a rowan berry amid pure snow, spilling their inky love. His lips once tender as a toddler’s, brushed her plush mouth and whispered the most beautiful lies.
The devil, indeed, lives in lovely skin.
© Grace Black
Flash-fiction for 55word challenge. Go write one Here.