Come out of the rain
The lake is frozen over
   and so are your eyes
Weather like this is rare
crystalline beads of moisture
collecting on blankets of ice
You are otherworldly in the moonlight
but your limbs still struggle to bridge the gaps between what was and what we are now
From the driver's seat I can't tell if it's my words
   or your dreams
trapped beneath your collarbones
For now it doesn't matter
I want to know your ribs like the back of my hand
When you sit, almost weightless, in the passenger seat, you smell of wildflowers
I want you to paint them all over my cold skin
Welcome me into the springtime that is your legs