Snow Angels

Red on white. The colors of her quirky polka dot dress. Every singular blob of crimson merged together to form assaulting hazy lines as she span around the room, humming whimsically under her breath. Brandy in hand she never spilled, even as she span. 
   In he came. Red on white. A festive tie resting fluidly on a crisp white shirt. He reached a deliberate hand forward and took hers, pulling her into him with a soft longing in his burnt chestnut eyes. He bent forward and placed a kiss on her slightly parted lips, a kiss that spoke of assurance not lust, they shone like pearls where he left it. 
   She was hanging baubles on the tree. Red on White. Metalic shades of weath.Their reflective paint gleamed at me, beating me down with a mocking grin. From where I stood I could not make out her eyes. I knew they were there, of course. Wide and infinite, deep pools of blue consuming her pupils. I'd seen those pools overflow too many times. That's how they looked when they poured through me for the last time, waterfalls cascading from them, lips shaking, accepting the fallen drops. 
   My heavy breath was fogging up the window where I stood. I tried to stop it, to cease my bitter inhales, but they only grew mightier. I could feel my own hot breath hitting the frozen glass and rebounding back onto my frosted features - thawing them. 
   I readjusted the handle being grasped tightly in my mitten coated fingers. I was clutching the wood so tightly I heard my knuckles clicking in protest as my grip tautened. Red on white. Woollen gloves in patterns of men with beards and hats. 
   I rose to my feet, my extremities burning as the blood rushed back into them, a tingle ran through me as I walked briskly to the oak front door. I noticed my large footsteps leading from the mulberry bush i'd been concealed in, making ghost tracks in the virgin snow. 
   I could no longer see them, the window into their paradisiac life now too far behind. I could hear them though. Their musical laughter muffled by the protective solid structure between us. I thought I could smell her,the impossibility of it eluding me. To me her smell was home, and in a way that's where I was, even though I'd abandoned it months ago. 
   I placed my rusty key into the trusting lock and turned. Walking into the house my cheeks seared, the sudden temperature change catching my body off guard. I strode into their perfect living room and watched the color drain from each of their faces, mutating them into standing corpses.
  That's when her screaming started. I thrust myself at them, dragging them with me. Ripping them from their suburban utopia, like a premature baby being torn from the warmth of his mother's womb. I threw them out into the cold. I don't remember what happened after that, I was just so ardently happy. 
   Red on white. The phantom etchings of their struggle making angels where they lay.Their guilty blood staining the perfect snow.