There is no easy way out.
Your walking down a path.
It’s well lit.
There’s hat-stand trees in their winter jackets standing at attention as you walk by
You can’t say you don’t know where your going - there’s signs
Warnings posted in red letters across benches meant for warmer times
While the crunching snow beneath your feet reminds you that you’re heading south.
Don’t say your compass broke - we both know.
And it gets harder.
Wind burning your bare cheeks and playing tug of war with your scalp
Eyes releasing newly formed icicles that drop from your face
There’ll be more of this you know.
It’s not going to get easier, just wait.
And yet, you’re still moving forward, dropping each limb or appendage as soon as frostbite sets in.
After all, you only really have one organ you need to give.
Don’t you?
‘Cause then you reach you’re destination
The place he’s been standing with his snow suit and winter boots
Waiting for the other heart of yours - the one that doesn’t beat
That he’ll take, but not as a trade.
Because he’s prepared for the cold he’ll feel right to his bones
while your sweater barely keeps out a breeze,
even though it’s you who’ll leave.
Look - there’s the craft waiting to take you to a whole new place.
Leave the weather behind.
Take your seat.
I won’t tell you I told you, to choose another path, to walk away. You knew. Now enjoy the pain.
