winter
Nokyoung Xayasane

This city
covered in snow,
and I am blanketed
by your left arm.
I feel
the pressure
and weight of you,
a heavy bough
of evergreen
laden with white
for you,
our legs slide along
the snowy rivets
of my duvet,
white folds
where snow angels
play and pray.

There are these
rolling hills
of white
frosted ice
on my windowpane.
There are these
patterns
when you
press your
face against
my shoulder,
these indentations
that disappear
with the new
snow fall.

I breath
you in,
crisp clean snow
falling in the night
in the blinding light,
and your mouth
it is against my neck
and my lip
it is against
your brow,
your eyes
closed tight
to the white winter
outside.

Will it always be like this,
this endless winter,
only whispering
between us,
and the quiet giggling
of children
with a secret
to tell.

Next winter,
will you be here
with me?
Yes, you say.
I ask a second time.
Yes, you say.
I believe you
because I want to
and not
because it’s true.