In the midst of a snow storm—I worry about the footsteps left behind. Begging the memory of someone would leave my mind.

The footsteps behind me mark memories of happiness, sadness, and frustration. In the case of a snowstorm—I'd beg that the traces of you fade away to.

The selfish wish begins to melt out of its ice. "I wish I never met you," slips out of my mouth. My words mutter weakly, and my frozen lips shudder indefinitely.

As cold tears flow down my face—I feel your heart for me had been frozen for the past decade. I'll use my final fires, torches, and even lighters.

But in the midst of a snow storm, I'd only have one final wish—to leave my love and warmth.