Oct 2013
the cold bit at her fingertips,
gently asked for her attention.
she was the winter and he
was the breeze
she was the snow;
he was the frostbite.
she was everything he wasn't
and he wasn't even close to anything
that she was; or wanted
gently asked for her attention.
she was the winter and he
was the breeze
she was the snow;
he was the frostbite.
she was everything he wasn't
and he wasn't even close to anything
that she was; or wanted
I wrote this poem a while ago and posted it now bc idk. I feel sappy and sad and I don't know. whatever enjoy. or not.
(Toronto)
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