~
her stealthy cold awaits,
her legs are gathered ’neath,
and in bitter gusts she crouches,
waiting...
as innocent i venture out;
and as i step outside the door,
she pounces on my frame,
nearly knocks me to the ground.
she begins in subtle nibbles,
biting sharp at ears and cheeks;
and then deep her fangs sink in,
to draw my unsuspecting warmth.
my bones she chills;
my blood is curdled,
swiftly rising to the skin;
my eyes are robbed of any tears,
my gasping breath she steals,
to leave a burning in my throat;
my fingers and my toes slowly
lose their fight to feel,
and though around my neck,
is wrapped a scarf to shield
her bitter cutting wind,
my chest is filled
with winter’s frosty grip.
my hands begin to fumble,
my thighs and calves draw tight,
my feet begin to stumble,
to outrun her breath i try;
but fast in winter’s grasp,
this terror has an edge;
a sharpened knife she holds,
hard against unwitting skin.
no match for she am i,
her ruthless ways,
have all but won this round;
’til then my feet find footing,
and up the stair i fly,
my hand upon the latch,
i hurl my frame inside;
and as i slam the door behind,
her icy voice, i hear it rise,
high above her roar outside,
"next time, lover,
i will win;
i will make you mine!"
~
*post script.
brrrrrrr... few things i hate,
but this for sure,
her biting cold i do despise.