**** frost's barbwire grip on branches
glitters in the scathing glare,
I wondered how I could see you through the blue sky
but there you are
breathing like a dragon
heaving heat
from the centre of your sun;
Close enough to burn.

I lean in to kiss your pulsing lip
Only, you turn away cold,
indifferent.
Hard to tell
in negative degrees,
why you came here with me,
And as snow begins to fall (again),
dusting hair
caught flecks upon eyelash
eyes blue sparking
wild afire,
You disappear in white:
It's always easy to deny
a season's change
when you linger in the past...

Come summer,
I'll remember the sweat on your skin
your smell
folded between skin
hung on hair
tasted on lips
I, alone, once allowed to kiss.

__________________­____________________



B­y Data © Sept. 2024