the room is cold
cold so that my breath is visible upon the brisk air.
the winter windows are flung open in despair
the curtains stiffly shuffling on the dusty, wooden floor
indifferent to warmth or desiring something more
my body is naked upon crisp white, linens.
the sheet resting across the curve of my lower back
stomach down, my face turned into the pillow
my arms laid out on either side
i do not feel the cold, merely aware that it exists
on my skin and within my bones
but i do not feel the cold.
the presence of red, a white flag in my night
the moonlight creating shades only possible in the dark
the lips upon my spine
yes, upon my spine
the breath so tender
and enlightening
edged in raw passion
drawn tight in the frigid space
the only breath that could make me instantly overrun
my body reacts without hesitation
bending to your every want
the absence of warmth making me crave the cold so much more
wanting the icy stab of your bruised pink tongue
across my body, my painfully hard nipples, my swollen sex
the definition of heat frozen solid upon your touch
the very reason for winter
locked in your teasing grin, your wicked eyes
when everything love is thought of to be
is surrendered without mercy
left in the coldness of you and me