Is it cold there I wonder just beneath her chest does the wind howl with a bitter sigh
is the land covered with frozen riverbeds holding back icy tears
a flurry of unused emotions hardened into ice showering everything it touches in a hail storm of self-pity

A pint of warm whiskey chips away at the frost bite numbing the boarders of your heart
but it only leads to a blizzard of regret
The harshness of this tundra burns through flesh and bone and sinks into a man’s soul suspending it in a seemingly endless winter
where longing congeals into sharp jagged shards of glacial malice

Yes it is very cold there, but I remember better times when the cool air twirled around me embracing me more like an old friend instead of passing through as an unforgiving gust that chills already achy joints
I would lay there flat on my back, and sink into the velvet snow,
indulging in bliss as I am taken in by inner warmth

Catching crystalline snowflakes with my tongue as they melt into something that tastes of something salty and sweet
ending in rapture with a shiver then a sigh
I would imagine, hope and pray to never leave her winter this home my frigid paradise
I would imagine being her absolute love the only warmth within this white abyss
No matter how cold it gets I’ll be here, I would say as I lay on my back
and stare into her pale blue skies