Behold the beauty that is cold,
Those wispy chilling winds
That bind the desperate human touch
In coats thick to guard their warmth.

Swirling wind torments bare skin
As we sit upon the stairs,
Cold hands daring a bottle sharing
We pass our words and spirits.

I listen hard and do not hear
Your words as you speak,
Butterflies swim up my throat
Swallowing hard I hold them back.

Fingers tremble from more than cold
My hand takes my arm from around
You and places it in my side pocket.
Retrieving silently as my mind commands.

Knowing moments do not get better,
I present to you the ring
And convince myself
That you will keep it.