Winter love is meant to warm-
a bed of embers on the darkest,
longest night of the year
It covers, envelops
like the quilt of snow that blankets
the earth and trees.
Sharp with heat instead of ice
But the love that warms in January
can stifle in July-
Our winter love has burned
the oxygen from my lungs,
reduced me to dust when once,
I stood strong and proud in my skin
It thawed my frozen spirit,
but couldn't stop there.
The fires gnawed and bit and ate
my pretty virginal heart
until only the ash of memory remained.
Beware of winter love that lasts-
soul-devouring, dream-burning,
for it may be that our winter love
will be the death of me.













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