if you think you have ignited
a flame of anger in my soul,
you are mistaken.

instead, you have forged winter
in a summer heart
where flowers once grew
and rivers once ran.

you had already made your way deep
into the summer,
found the heat and drought
beyond the breeze,
you had treaded lands
where no one ever has
and seen the parts of my soul
i could never dare to show anyone else,
in trust as steady
as sunny afternoons on the porch.

but you are a catastrophe—
you changed the world's climate
with momentous feelings
and carelessness,
instant gravity
and secrecy—
you have shifted the tides
and now the sun has gone away.

so in this heart,
the season has changed.
the summer has gone
and there is only an aching winter
where the snow is a million feet high
and the moon sinister,
the night is almost unkind,
but it is not angry,
instead it lingers in silence.
the air is so cold
and almost impossible to breathe in,
and there is no longer any warmth
but the coldness of a broken heart.