Sky was gray as witches' old,
No quarter given, none taken by the cold.
Summer's song chased by gentle north breeze,
Replaced by stark, hard, white freeze.
Running tights bought several sizes too small,
Confident they will fit come winter's call.
Between **** shorts that hid wet, hot summer cheeks,
Feeling lucky, I might give you a peek.
Soft, tight black lycra slips over curves hard as stone,
Gaze at the mirror, this body, my own.
Thin, tight fabric chases away your fantasy,
Body sculpted by air, sun, and sweat, no artificial symmetry.
Chiseled by hundreds of miles running and swimming, gallons of sweat,
Tummy hard, pancake flat, no regrets.
In the mirror, my hard body I see,
Feel your envy, your resentment, fuel for me.
Rocket fuel to propel me out this morn,
Cold biting air, but I won't be torn.
Used to hate you, now energy's mine,
Run and swim longer, leave you in the grime.
Through your cars, your scowls, I see,
Just chafing sports bras, nothing to me.
Open the door, cold air slaps my face,
Air ****** from lungs, blood rushes to the pace.
Feel alive, your malice pushes me on,
Cold air invades every orifice, and I am gone.
I slap my cold, tight, little, *** and whisper – you can't touch this.
