Whispered willow conflicts
Down the branches of my spine,
Vines that tumble down my being
Entangle, strangle me with your
Words.

You’re slithering closer, closer,
As the serpent tongue flitters wordlessness;
Empty skies through flashes, dashes
Of light across this lonely room.

(Yet you’re lying right beside me.)

Brushing past granite features,
Scrape my cheek when you press your lips
So close, so far as your frigidness may take you.

Snow-tipped lips touch frozen tongues,
Caught in the drifts they accumulate.
They warn you never to fall asleep,
(No better way to pass the time,)
But I’m gazing through my eyelids
Past your flake-crowned, lustless lashes,
And see nothing but genuine counterfeit.

(Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad
If you took the snowstorm with you.)