soft, cold tread
of careful footsteps on the ice
and it's so ironic
that i'm holding your hand
to keep from falling

and i thank you without thinking
a knee-**** reaction
to each time you make my day
while inside my head the obsession
replays
asking myself in circles
twisted, burgeoning circles
is this just the game again?

and i love that rush
icy lights above, hard seat below me
and then your mouth is soft on mine
in the middle of everywhere
and i have trouble opening my eyes
when you pull away
and i am ashamed when you notice
the shifting colours in my cheeks
because i am afraid
to betray
the easiness with which i sink
into you

we are too familiar, you and i
too similar, too scarily in tune
and it didn't take long, did it?
where did this comfort come from?
these questions carve my tongue
into ribbons, and yet
you never notice
when yours meets mine
and the guilt is swallowed
before you can taste it
just in time

and i ask, again
where did this comfort come from?
or are we just two people
in the middle of winter
taking solace in the warmth
of each other?
will we part ways easily?
somehow, i find myself
dreading that experiment

where did this comfort come from?
this heat that spreads
across my chest
and through my stomach
and down into my frosted knees
as the cold melts away from me, forgotten
like the hour and the place
as the wall behind me
is crushed into my spine
and i am strong again
our bodies create a hole in time
so perfectly fragmented around us
and the clock fades into grey
tugging at my fears

and i want so badly
to keep feeling this way
all through winter
for as long as i can
but
i just wish i didn't care

where did this comfort come from?
and will you meet me there?