It smells like winter and it’s been a while since I’ve seen your face.
It’s not been long but to me, it feels like ages.
And you? You. You. You. God.
Where do I start?
I ask my self every day why am I so obsessed? You’re not a piece of art.
Art is what I obsess about, but ever since you, I don’t know what to know.
Why is desperation so singularly unattractive? Why is it so?
I know, if you were as obsessed as I am I would have never fallen.
Almost is never enough, I’m stalling.
Winter is my favorite thing but so are you,
I can’t decide which I favor more, maybe winter, probably you.
If I had you and winter together, that would be a dream.
We’d build snow forts, you’d be my whole team.
I don’t know what I want but it’s snowing,
And when it snows, I know, I want you.