Variation in Temperature
Somewhere between October's falling leaves and when the first ice set, an inconversable schism occured.
And as silenced seconds rolled into muted months, the sudden realization of our unforseen distance shook me dead cold.
The neccessity I had for your mountainous warmth, lie dormant, until I found myself shivering.
That was the most difficult, bone chilling, couple hundreds of days of my entire life.
Damned to the icebox agony.
For the next 466 days, the dimly lit spark I still somehow bore, seeped hot air from my lungs that resourced my only means of survival. Only just those last few days did I start to regain feeling in my fingertips. But sharp searing I longed for still had not.
The schism remained. And no other feeling or state of being was found better suited than reluctant acceptance. Because I battled through the most frigid fucking war alone to change every thing I had the power to.
That morning, left a mere 72 hours. Fading time, leaving me dangling by chattering teeth, and a frozen gust of wind sent a sense of my greatest sadness, chilling down to the base of my consistently quivering spine. And just a moment before I gave up all hope, the clock struck 12:01am, December 29...and in the dead of winter, when I was coldest, the temperature teasingly began to rise.
I knew that instant, my body would be returned to 98.6 that day. And when your eyes returned to meet mine, I knew you would never let me be cold again.
When your last finger finally settled in its crevass, every single nerve ending in my body was set on fire.
How beautiful, I finally felt, to just burn.