for every burning,
vermilion
winter.
there is me.
in the moment,
before,
with,
after.
me before you
is very simple.
i only thought of you
every now and then.
you were nothing more
than a fable.
something to never encounter.
in the moment,
i faced you.
and oh, did my heart ache.
you were the beautiful
breeze in the dark.
you were a
beautiful
nightmare.
after you,
minds became much
more complex.
i tip toe at
every corner.
wondering.
if i do this (or that)
am i stupid?
gullible?
soft?
my heart solidified,
frozen
in blood and solace.
a thick wall too tough
to beat.
then i'll meet another
you.
and the cycle,
once complete,
starts over.
the icy red walls
will fall and parish.
vulnerable
and naive.
but to know
if the cold red winter inside
will return,
i won't.
