Your eyes, pupils
Black holes to the
Unknown.
To the all knowing.
The answers,
surrounded by brown,
white,
and lashes.
A touch bringing silence, only
sounds of breath;
the exchange
of life
slowly seeping from your lips
I kiss.
Lost in it, the melting
of snow
I'm made of.
This is
what they write about,
sing about,
long for,
die for,
live for.
This is...
Winter is only temporary. And in death, there is rebirth. The circle continues. We move on, live on, thriving and breathing. So one more breath. One more chance. Why? Joy, love, and happiness. Warmth is coming.
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