Poinsettia: The Christmas Flower

For the "theOtaku.com's Winter Writing Contest"

The snow fell silently to the ground.
The last of the leaves whisper their last goodbye.
My boots crunch the snow upon the ground.
My hair the only patch of color in the vast whiteness.
My eyes catch a glimpse of movement.
It's just the snow I think.
My broken heart wants it all to end.
The hearlessness of him.
All I want is for a true love.
My eyes catch the movement.
I turn too late.
I feel the thick, redness pour from my breast.
I lay like an angel.
Sweeping my arms for my wings.
"I love you."
The soft voice kisses my ear.

The blood bloomed from her lifeless form.
A smile upon her lips says my actions are right.
Her favorite flower had been the Poinsettia.
Now her own blood formed exactly that.
She had found her true love among the angels upon this Christmas Eve.