Loving him was winter
Summer never returned.
Even now that he's gone
For the harsh, cold chill
of his touch,
I still yearn.
I crumble the roses
And cut down the ferns
Praying to an unknown god
That my lovers burning
Chill of wrath will
Once more
Return.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
Loving him was winter
Summer never returned.
Even now that he's gone
For the harsh, cold chill
of his touch,
I still yearn.
I crumble the roses
And cut down the ferns
Praying to an unknown god
That my lovers burning
Chill of wrath will
Once more
Return.
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