A winter to live through this love I have lost.
The absence of birds makes a cheerless morning.
But later, however,
As the sun climbs ever higher
Over the mountainous sky,
My love I see.
A love as translucent
And transparent
As a window
Upon which ice has formed.
Though seemingly clear,
You subtly notice
Its growingly complex patterns.
Such complexity only matched
When I stare into her glossy eyes.
This love I have known before,
Yet much to my dismay,
It fell apart.
For you see,
She was as cold as winter itself.
A deathful stare that was slow
To embrace life’s abundances,
Yet quick to realize its shortcomings.
Myself, much like life.
Yet this love I feel is different.
Though, I may never fully understand it.
She is desire, in its purest form.
A warm blanket is this love
To my shivering fingers.