Oct 29
The winter bites into the flesh.
Breath that is stolen by its icy fingers,
And the night's frost hanging in the air
Forms into an iron fist as it closes in.
Her name is pressed into cracked lips
And you desire the arms of your lover
With whispers of "summer, summer."
Breath that is stolen by its icy fingers,
And the night's frost hanging in the air
Forms into an iron fist as it closes in.
Her name is pressed into cracked lips
And you desire the arms of your lover
With whispers of "summer, summer."
Lines from the poem "Return" by "Sin" inspired my poem.
Ha, winter, I wish. It's still hot in my part of Texas!
Ha, winter, I wish. It's still hot in my part of Texas!
