The Snowy Grave of Our Love

I held his letters in my frozen palms,

Digging the snowy grave of our love wasn’t a good idea.

Turning the pages, I looked at the lies bleeding through the ink,

Oh, how the ice storms withered away all the roses we had grown!

Mountains of cold, cold cruelty disguised as honesty,

Avalanches of fights destroying bonfires of affection,

I was out of breath thanks to insincere propriety.

I ran away before the hailstorm could bury me under heaps of shame,

I ran away before my heart could become his favourite game,

I ran so I could avoid the blame,

For breaking his frigid heart.

I ran straight into the arms of my twin flame.

The acid from my eyes burnt a hole into my skin,

But not quite like the one, his words burned into my heart.

But the burning was the only warmth I felt in the longest time,

The glow I desired was finally mine.

The fire of my love grew tenfolds,

The power that he holds,

Over me, his touch turns me to ashes.

Now that I frolic in the garden of blooming roses,

I will never let the storms wither them away,

Now that this colossal fire is burning within me,

An old flame could never sway,

My love and my convictions.

But now and then I re-read the letters,

I wish I could remember if it was ever magic,

Digging the snowy grave of our love was a good idea,

To show me that it was nothing but tragic.