winter and that old chill

Silence and a mist over the slushy white.
I said, "I miss you."

Do you understand?

I do not have a book of code, how does one learn to read me properly?

I am complex,
and also simple.

I require communication - hugs - and delights.

Lately there is hasn't been much of any,
and i'm starting to get cold.

Hold on to me, as the winter deepens her chill, turns us inside out, and says, "SHH, listen to my heartbeat under my mystical white."

So blanket me with security, hold my hand, head and heart until I fully trust that what you want is also what I need.

or maybe it's something completely different,
and winter always shows what summer can't.

We place ourselves in the hole and then wonder how we got here, and I'd say this time I'm wide-eyed and knowing, and still,

I do not want to be alone.

It is cold,
it is dark,
and your skin breathes so well next to mine.

Swaying madly

Rust eyes and everybody cringes when the fairy lights turn off.
The houses beam radiant, candles in windows and that evergreen tinge.

The fire consumed more than the wick and this is real.

Blow it all out - festivities - all the laters and I try to make plans but all my days have pencil scratches  and where is the space for the song?

Glossy forest green paint covers up a wall even if you want a lush purple velvet couch and I suppose we have other strange visions that need to be realized.

Bank accounts tell stories.
I wonder yours when I eye you up and down -
Your leather reaks of tinsel and I'm pawning my gold.

For something greater.

I think, I should fly you out to kiss me in the sun,
And I rather love this idea -

Since memories speak more than a big red bow and scents take you higher.

We could turn the lights off and feel our bodies moving towards the heat of the sunburst star and I would wager a large bet that you never felt more cosy.

Worn and scratched we come accross but this mixed bag of words keeps my prayer book at bay and I still sway madly to your seasons and your starch white page.