I’ve never enjoyed
feeling cold
brittle, crackling, painful
my toes perpetually stiff.
Sharp inhales that give way
to traitorous clouds
venting out my heat.

He understands, too.
Preferring sweltering, and slowly
sinking into the warmth
of a summer day.

My anger burns hot
ripping through the air
blazing up then burning out
as quickly as it started. Yet
he recoils
pulling into himself -
balancing the scales.

Beginning with snow drifts,
he grows sheets of ice
freezing over lakes
forming glaciers. Slow to move,
to forget, the earth holding the shape
of his anger.

I’m left shuddering, wondering, if spring
will ever come again.