You have ice in your veins.

You are the same
As the world is
When I wake up at 2:35 AM on a week night
And there's clumps of snow dropping from the pink-violet night sky,
And then sticking to the cold, unfeeling ground.

You are the same
Because you make me feel the same way.

Watching a blizzard's slow and gentle beginning at odd hours in the morning,
Is one of my favorite feelings.
I feel calm.
I feel content.
I feel, finally, at peace.

I'm not sure
If I've ever known peace
Anywhere
Aside from watching snow fall to the earth at 2:35 AM
And aside from the rare moments your laugh touches my heart,
Or your smile greets my soul,
And washes her clean.

You have ice in your veins.

You are all too familiar with the tranquil melancholy
That comes along with
Snowy winters.

You are familiar
With the peaceful, but lonesome, silence.

You are comfortable in it,
For it is your home.
For your walls
Are built from ice,
And no summer has ever been hot enough to melt them,
At least not for long.

You are the snowy winter.

But I am the pink summer.

I am the peak
Of colorful and pesky
Wildflowers.
I am the sunset
At nine o'clock at night.
I am the breath of sweet, fresh air
That stirs all your hormones together,
Making you feel warm and happy and excited and giddy and alive
But most of all
Free.

I am the smell of gasoline
And charcoal.
I am sunshine storms
And the warm rain they bring.
I am bonfires
And bugspray
And camping trips
And awkward-but-memorable-outdoor-***
In a teeny little tent,
That almost always ends in giggle fits,
And feeling so entirely, and finally, whole.

I am heat exhaustion
And hurricanes
And itty-bitty green inchworms venturing away from their
Leafy trees
For the very first time.

I am passion.
I am feeling something with your whole heart.
I am bravery.
Meaning, I am being absolutely terrified, but doing the thing anyway.
I am feeling so much of one emotion at a time that it is the only thing you can feel.
I am the butterflies in your stomach,
If they were ever there at all.

I am warm
And free
And wild
And loving
And always, always there.
In some way,
Even if just a memory.

I am always fleeting.

I am summer.

You are winter.

You are hot apple cider,
And cocoa with too-big-marshmallows,
And flannel pajamas
And surprises
And christmas tree ornaments that I love for no other reason other than that I love them and I always have and always will.

You are cold winds
And painful, but important, memories.

You are the feeling of stability.
You are finally having some type of normalcy,
Away from the chaos.

We are polar opposites.
So much so,
That it makes us the same.

I know why summer is your favorite season.

But did I ever tell you how much I love winter?