How many droplets
Will spill from the moon?
We have laid here, together,
Matching ourselves
With the weather,
The fevers from a fireplace,
As you are mine.

Scarlet hair,
Beaming eyes,
Folded skin, over curves
Soft as petaled snow,
Of trees that connect each star,
Dropping flakes easily as remembrance
To this unseen moment.

You writhe in your pleasure,
Folding grins against frowns,
Feeling pain with my dining
Upon scents
As you melt
With the cold
That never touched us.

There is a tree,
Near to us,
As it sheds its needles upon
Ourselves, wasting stories,
Needing newness,
Reliving an ocean of gray
Where time can die,
As we glide on.