Snowfall. It’s like heavy, wet cotton. Cold. Clinging to the top of yesteryears flowers, what’s left after months trying to survive. It’s a constant battle. The frozen water weighing them down. Breaking them. In the end, they all snap and fall to the ground. Defeated. Broken.
Weird thing is; they get up the next year, like nothing ever happened. The flowers, that is.
Skirt – Traded // Sweater – Freak Factory // Faux fur – Gift from Grandma // Shoes – GoJane