You are
  a message sprawled onto parchment
  shoved in a bottle
  thrown into the sea

Maybe someday
  you'll come back
  wash upon the shore
  with open arms

For now, you are
  the rolling waves
  forever echoing
  on the coast

You can keep your white-tipped wood
              if I can keep my springy stride
     You can keep your saccharine goods
                   if I can keep my aestival pride


You can keep your warm fireside
              if I can keep my smile
     You can keep your placid sleigh rides
                   if I can stay happy for a while

you feel them on the back of your head
they slowly peer down his arm,
out his fingertips,
to your hips

you feel them,
suddenly piercing,
like an arrow slowly tearing through each layer of skin,
as your lips collide with his
soft, so soft,
compared to the stabbing on your back

his hands trace along your side and you’re burning
you know the eyes can see
you pull away,
the fire becoming too excruciating
you feel the grip that the eyes have around you start to loosen

his hand glides to yours and suddenly the whispers begin
little words screamed into your ears
little words that are said so softly,
but you swear they could make you deaf

his hand feels so heavy,
like a rock pulling you to the ocean floor
the sinking and
the burning and
the screaming becomes too much
if you hold his hand long enough,
you’re sure,
you will burst into pieces