Tracing Snowflakes

The moonlight glimmers
across my cold corpse.
While the snow shimmers,
crimson seeping through.

A knife through my back
placed by your own hand.
My skull has a large crack
from where you hit the bat.

I wish I could see your face;
guilt flitting across your eyes,
while watching my blood begin to trace
morbid images in the snowflakes.

No one will find me
buried deep in falling snow
while an owl hoots in a fallen tree
never to awaken tomorrow.