When it got so cold, it burned

I feel the pain when we speak. it is blistering, and races-- whips past-- bashing into my face, searing my skin like an icy sleet. You are calm, but burning up inside, I am calm, but lost in a cold depression. You are the woman, and yet you understand there is something that should bring us together. I am the man, and i recognize that sometimes calm can soothe aches of two opinions in battle.

But we need something more mutual. You are indebted to hear my resolution, and I, your grief. Love works this way, we play our part and deal with the fallout. Some flowers take the same form, others become another species. I yearn to stand up and hold you close, but I am playing my part, that you will respect me. You glance at the bench on which I sit, the empty space next to me, but are afraid of the massive throws of sadness which accompany moments like this; perhaps you fear making me upset...Or at least it seemed that way; How could I ask, and forget myself? Alas, we say goodbye.

As we part ways, it seems only the burns remain. All the times we spent together, holding hands, locked in each others arms, they are distant, except for this letter. These hot tears and heavy rattling breath betray my composure. 'How a world would dare allow two people to come together as we have -- in love -- only to press each other into dismay, is unjust.

I want to chase after you, my love, but I am afraid of getting hurt again. You want to chase as well but the same fate, you flee.

If only we knew we would have to do this. But why to discuss such a morose moment, in the midst of all the days we shared together. Love's gentle, quiet captivity, has now become an ill gloom.

Do know, that you are with me always, the ache in my heart has opened a place for you.

I do hope we meet again.