When nights are cold, and stars are few. I close my eyes and think of you. The soft sound of the violin echoes through my mind, as the December night guides my path. Sparkling lights from a Christmas tree help light up the room, as the warmth from your heart melts the chilling ice. Millions of well-placed lights and lamps placed themselves firmly beside you, as you opened your small, little eyes. Aqua blue they were. You were born today, on the coldest day of the year, your heart shined through it all. You are the small light of fire. Shining the brightest, enough to outshine a star.

'’The very fire of hell is the fire of love.’ Consumed by those who have it, lost, and broken for those who couldn’t. Until the day you burn in the flames, every little chunk will make you feel burnt. The topaz brightness of soft-colored eyes pierced your heart. Then your soul, as your insides burned, and torched. The cold, watery touch of your face worried him. as his fingertips melted you. Consumed too tiny drops of a once frozen being was all you had left. The freezing touch of her, frozen the outer sides of his body as relation strikes him. With fire in her eyes and ice in her words. She feared the cold of her body, and graved to burn with the flames, for him and the love between fire and ice.

I saw him again today. It wasn’t very long, though. Just enough time to make my knees collapse, and butterflies to form in my stomach. He looked at me, again not that long, but it felt longer to me. The beautiful way his eyes reflect the ocean makes my heart start to beat faster, faster, then, stop…. I have a hopeless crush on someone I have no chance with. I looked at him as only a friend, the minute I saw him, but that was until everything changed. My heart felt whole. For once the whole room shook, and the illusion of people vanished. The only one I saw was you, the first one I looked for. I’m not the prettiest, smartest, or attractive. I’m clumsy, shy, and not outgoing. But my world stopped the moment I first met you, the first word to come out of my mouth, was ’’Hi my name is Lexi.''  I don’t regret it for a moment. how could I. when you were the one who brought a smile to my face, and a kiss that unlocked my heart.

Of all the things you yourself get to choose, your nightmares aren’t one of them. The nightmare chooses you, not the other way around. The sharp pain of the same nightmare bit into the edge of your body, as the sharpened pain of a blade cutting through flesh and bone throbbed at a single touch. The pain only lasted so long, but the scars the pain left behind felt like deepening death and terrible, terrifying pain. The fire spread alongside your bedside, that single, lonely, night. They roared at the sight of you, for the nightmare of crimson twinkled in the deepest pit of your once emerald green eyes. The flame grew higher with every single stare you could muster. The fear didn’t fill you this time; the only thing that seemed to play on repeat inside you, was the snapped photo of the flames in front of you. The way the flames roared as you glared upon it. A creature combined with both the harshest of dark, alongside the gleaming light of the morning dawn. Your cheeks spread apart slowly, as you flashed it a loving smile. The silvery reflected tear drop of your tear sliding down your face, as you remembered what it felt like to smile….again.

She is a beautiful piece of broken poetry, put back together by her own hands, and a world judged her, cracks began to form, pieces broke into a single, then one became two, and two became three, onto till the strong shell of broken glass smashed into tiny, bite-sized pieces. They were too busy seeing how many pieces she could become, to notice the strength she used putting herself back together.

When I was dying inside, feelings escaped silently through writing. The writing helped me to remember my life and lock away my feelings. My face forms a smile when I’m dead inside, I laugh when my heart fills with tears, as the cold breeze followed by the winter shine of the moon reflects through the glossy shield of a damaged, bloodstained window. The thoughts came rushing back tonight. The cold, chilling, winter feeling of her own skin made her lips curve, as she hugged herself slowly. Rocking back and forth she pleaded inside herself. ’’If I ever tell you my back story, know its never because I want you to feel sorry for me, but so you can understand the person I am.’’ She was tired. Physically and mentally. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and hope she’d never have to open them again. But how could she when the lock and key refused to allow it. She knew very well who the lock and key was. No friends of hers, certainly not friendly, nor human, nor animal. But the demons she created.

You told her to keep living. Never to give up, never to bat an eye at the responses. She had appreciated the advice and told you she would hold it with her forever. But the words faded from your heart the night you found her. The cold touch of her skin ran chills down your spine as you knelt down frozen by her image. Blood from the running wound on her damaged wrists ran down her skin and into your brain as you kept the image. Locked away and buried was where your heart was, remaining from that cool November night, as the love of your life faded from the world. Her head was buried in the soft touch of winter, as the Twilight smiled down on you most nights after. Your heart knew it was her every time. For Twilight was her favorite color.