Summer heat, heady

Like warm, thick wine.

Warm nights, fireflies floating,

Our own star system.

Once you brought me blackberries.

Did I taste like them when you kissed me?

My fingers, stained purple with juice,

Tripped across your cheeks, reverently.

Your skin, soft as peach flesh,

You, beautiful as a flower.

I have compared you to a summer’s day,

And I have found the day lacking.

I was born in the summer,

And I may well die in it,

By your hand, I think.

I may keep you for a season,

But you will destroy me,

When summer comes to an end.

Winter cold, sharp,

Like shards of glass.

Cold, biting, windy nights,

Spent warm by a fire.

He brought me hot chocolate.

He tasted like it when I kissed him.

My fingers, cold as ice,

Entwined with his warm ones.

Did you ever hold me like this,

Like I was the loveliest flower?

I have compared him to a summer’s day,

And found I no longer want that kind of heat.

I was reborn in the winter,

And I would not mind to die in it,

Not by his hand, I think.

And if I had to choose to perish by your fire or his ice,

I think I should choose ice,

Because the flames will burn to ash, but the ice will never leave.