“Soft snowflakes vanish on tongues groping desperate for contact and icy warmth, melting.
Your skin is pale as the winter’s serene peace and your touch subsides like the morning after storms.
If only I could know these things as well as I know winter’s cold, if only you were the season.
Soft snowflakes vanish on my open palms, hoping that they would catch you because I know you fall too.
All I want is to be the one to catch you, because I know it won’t be as delicate as a winter day.”