Outside,
It is now white,
And causes me,
To be chilled to the bone,
But when I'm with him,
He makes me feel warm,
And when he touches me,
My whole body goes numb,
And when he rests,
His hands on my hips,
When he shows me,
How to glide,
Across the heavy ice,
I am not cold,
But rather unfeeling,
And I love it.
I love the way,
He makes me numb.
I am going to miss this,
And then,
So suddenly,
I stop and we fly,
Into a large pile,
Of what feels like,
The coldest ice,
And he is no longer touching me,
And that is my biggest fear,
That someday,
I will be ice cold again.
YOU ARE READING
A Poet's Love Story: A Poet's Collection
PoetryLife, Does not wait, For you. It stirs your emotions, And reforms them, Into wings of flight, And it tests, Weather or not, You will open the cage, And allow yourself, To give up, Or if you will keep the wings calm, And continue to live, And underst...
