Season Girl

***Another hopeless romantic poem.
To, you....***

Asleep upon the white tides of midwinter,
a snowflake twisted to the shape of a heart;
soft, ice cold eyes,
that feel like fire
caressing the edges of my stale skin.
Shivering in the dance of her tongue
that scrapes away remnants of dusk's kiss,
numb, crack; break apart like a drug addicted mirror,
an echo of beating hearts scattered across frigid stars.

Then the delicate flowers of May erupted,
making her a velvet dress of early morning delicacies
that soon would float away on gray clouds and kiss the sky
with gentle, virgin lips.
And as the specs of winter stardust fade from my skin,
we dance wordlessly on aesthetic pools of lost breaths,
criss-crossing forms in tune to moonlit waterfalls.

Radiant shards of sunlight tip-toed over the horizon,
broken fingertips that embrace her hair in replica;
fragments of gorgeous summer
romance,
that emanate from each shy glance. (I hope she doesn't see...)
And her hair flows like strands of fire,
a passionate ignition;
she's the trigger to the revolver
sending bullets of laughter into my mind.

And even as nature's eyes
deepen to shades of various types of love,
and the feathers of the suicidal doves
fall like pale roses and wither away and bloom once again;
feeling out of place from my hand between her thighs.
I've caught her voice upon my lips;
she sings smoothly from aged and sleeping trees,
carrying a fragrance of sweet and bitter smiles,
upon the final season's breeze....