Defrost the winter in your chest— I want you to feel summer.

  ‘Cause frost clasps your skin in custody, as your tears become cold just a second before they drop down your jawline— you live as obscure as an iceberg situated at sea. If only you knew that summer would fall at your feet, as she would remedy the ice your winter carries, she’d pick out every snow snirt and place it across her flower fields. She’d lay the sun on every tear before ice hit its peak, so you feel— feel summer. But she’d never melt the white snow across your fields, as she’d only carry out the blues and let you stay home. She’d sometimes only ask for you to defrost the winter in your chest, so she could make you feel summer. So she could make you feel the warmth, the afternoon breeze, so she could make you feel— feel loved. Loved by her.