One night in the winter

.
.

The car wouldn't start
They were buried in snow
Trapped in their heads
With nowhere to go.

"I'm dying," she said
"Without ever having lived";
Dragged her finger along the misted window
Left a trail of condensation (of condescension)
In her wake.

She spread it out like butter
On her lover's lips
Swore his soul to secrecy
Traded it for a kiss.

"There's something in the air," she said,
"It wants to get to heaven;
Climbing smoke trails from fireplaces
But like a whispered hope, withers, unforgiven."

"If only you could hear me,
If only it were not so cold;
I should have told you that I loved you" (she laughed)
"But the devil will not be cajoled."

Like children nestled close together
They slept peacefully, in soundly themes
In winter's afterglow they quietly
Drifted into dreams.