the coldest winter

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First, I don’t claim to understand you at all.  You’re a foreign language I have yet to learn, and yet to love fully.  You have yet to know me, to understand me, and to see what I’m like.  But it’s a start to say that I felt a chill across the room when you walked in, the frostiest of smiles carved on your pale skin.  I wasn’t stunned by you at all, but a faint beat skip told me twice.

I don’t claim to be surprised by your beauty, because sometimes I lose you deep in the back of my mind, and it’s unlikely that I can purge you the same way you entered my head.  It’s difficult enough to carry the weight of loving someone all over again: the joy, the pain, and the choice– but why do I still stupidly enter into something or someone that I can never have? I could never claim to understand you, but instead I’ll try to speak the language you speak.

Don’t you sometimes feel like you’re surrounded by noise and by crowds and yet you are lost in silence? Like all you hear is the ticking of your heart beat and the raucous mess of thoughts rambling on and on while life moves past your eyes? It’s a speeding train and we’re off, way off, and lost somewhere else.  I know your heart is as cold as ice, not because you choose not to love, but because you yearn for some.  I watch you from afar, on top of the highest seat of somewhere, sitting with no one beside me.  I’ve felt loneliness most of the time, and it’s worse when you are surrounded and yet you’re stuck feeling empty.

Your heart is black, as dark as the night.  I wish I could paint you with the eternal colors of luminance, of brilliance, of beauty.  A beauty that doesn’t stun, but surprises.  A beauty that could make time turn and stand still both times, simultaneously.  You have that, and I hold you in my heart, burning despite the winter you’re trapped in.  You scathe like a thousand watts of heat course your skin, and yet you are as frozen.  You are a paradox.  But it’s not your fault that you burn in the cold, or melt in frost.  You are trapped in eternal winter, as much as you wish to thaw yourself out.

My thoughts haunt me constantly, even in a crowded room, and shuts me out of the light.  Are we standing on the same hill as we speak, as I try to reach for you without pushing you into the abyss of nothingness? I’ll hold you, as long as you don’t let go, and we can run into an eternal summer where we see only the everglow of the sun color our pale skin with the touch of life, a life that still deserves to be lived.  You don’t deserve to be in the dark, you deserve to shine.

Someday, I’d have the chance to do that, to pull you out with a force so strong as we battle your demons together.  We’d run with the strength of a thousand watts out into the world and never look back, only to hear the last of the snow melt into water behind us.  I wish you wouldn’t hear the echoes of discouragement and of chaos no longer.   I wish I could save you, even if I have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders because even heroes need saving.  Because no one deserves to be unloved and to be lost forever, to have a heart as fragile as glass.  If only.

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