Getting over you isn't a quick hail storm.

It's not a piece of ice falling rapidly.

An immediate deflation of emotion as though an ice cube pelting upon hot cement.

Melting as soon as the ground and frozen water meet.

Getting over you is a cool precipitation of slowly falling snow.

A glistening piece of artwork landing upon the endless white.

A cold, menacing blanket of hatred and sting.

Anytime revisited, a frostbite against the skin.

Come spring, you reopen the door and the white has disappeared.

Instead, hues of pink and blue dot the land.

The white, no longer missed.

You were my other half to my beating soul.

Getting over you will never happen.

However, my strength has grown thanks to you. I will never forget you. I will never forget the endless cold that stung my eyes. On this day, I say thank you. Thank you for being worthy of the winter and not being just a passing hailstorm. Thank you for teaching me that flowers within me are beauty even though their thorns may bite. Thank you for making me getting over you.