You whispered winter, shivering
under the moon but above the clouds
entangled with the shape-shifters
of the night. You;
you whispered rays of binding light
touching skin with tactile trust
blind the stars with your
evanescent glow.
Like the night—
you watched me survive
kindred in your apathy, for
you spared my flesh

the pleasures of my youth.

You whispered winter, clutching
build the stone-work of the statures
with your bony, pale-white arms
etching teardrops in the snow
with your stony, ice-cold charms.

And there was a moment
paused within the inhale
when my chest closed with the exhale
and the quivers shook my skin.
And you touched me there,
with your bare fingertips
longing for the affection that
you know I cannot give.
And you watched me there,
your eyes the harnessed motion
of a million weary
woe-begotten, dreary,
thousand awesome footprints
that our souls left on the flakes.

You whispered winter in the corner
rip the leaves into bare shreds.
You whispered winter in the morn and
called my name within the dregs.