winter brings home dead animals and stolen grins / she's a huntress / she's feline / a cat burglar / she's got an icy, vice-tight grip that's curving 'round your wrist / she's got frost bite licking up her skin / leaving it discolored, black and white like old films / and you can't leave her because she seems so lonely / so tragic
she's tricky, because she steals from you too / in spite of the promises she makes, when you're both lying awake at two am / she doesn't trust anyone / that's why she doesn't tell the truth / but that's okay with / because you like this better, this careful balance of not trusting
— you don't trust her either
