Winter Auction

The bitter cold wind
guides me down this path.
The moon, she let's me know
where you lay in wait for me.

I stand in front of you
as a slave at an auction;
my wrists bound by rope.

I wear nothing but the
rags they put me in;
icicles frozen on my cheeks.

You untie me,
layers stripping back,
and you wear that small smile
that tells me that I am yours.
I'm free in your arms,
and beneath I find my salvation.

Release your tethered angel
from these lies tonight.

Only you can make her see
the moonlight that lies within the deep.