You're my walking snowstorm.
You've held my ice cold hands and told me the snow looked beautiful in my hair.
You held me so close to your face, I died inside cause I swore that was when I saw it in your eyes.
You would keep me warm and let yourself be cold.
YOU ARE READING
It's an Understatement
PoetryBeginning to end, there is no real story line, there is just an abundance of poems place into one page.
