Your mocking smile,
My hands threaded through your hair,
A laugh dribbles in my throat.
You look into me,
Not at me.
Strong arms surround me like the soft breeze,
Eyes searching for my secrets held inside,
Green like sea turtles gliding over the soft shores.
Being with you is like being in the snow,
It falls as if true beauty could never be seen.
A cushion to fall on,
A guard against the heat,
The love of the new, intricate, interwoven framework.
The tireless sight of an adoring audience,
Yet,
Even snowflakes get tired of falling.
White become such an obscure color,
As if the past lays within it.
It becomes a routine,
A recurring theme of irony,
So when spring has a possibility of coming,
Your excitement bursts out like the rising sun.
In the heat,
You miss the snow.
Seeing it, letting it wrap around you.
But going back would just be an unwelcomed paradise,
Because it can only last so long,
Before the true nature reveals itself to you once again.