A Poem About A Flawed But Beautiful Moment

The Lover's Waltz in the Eyes of Bosco.


Silver stars do twinkle bright.
The night is cold and we are one.
Mid way between our sulphurous holes,
we stand waiting for a bus
neither of us intend on taking.
Roaring snow silences our regret,
leaving us with just that moment.
Numbness masked as affection and
used as an excuse to keep us together.

You're arms enter the abyss of my coat.
Enveloping you with the intent of warmth
yet leaving us both more frigid inside.
Contemplating the causality of our actions.
Indiscretion mirroring love and devotion,
spitting in the face of tradition.
We are bit by frost and fear
that what we are will always live here.
Statues of ice begging to seperate,
afraid of the wolves waiting if we do.

Did we speak? Does it matter?
Our words tertiary to the intent to
exist here as vile beasts of lust.
Or was it pity that bred us and drew us
into this subzero embrace?
We met in the winter,
runny noses and chapped lips.
We fell in love in the winter,
embroidered lies to justify us.
You left in the winter.
I am still here, waiting for a bus
I never intended to take.