Here I am struck, swinging in cold air. I am barely hanging on to your goldly imbued hair.
It's a familiar presence that is calling out my lingering.
Yet my fingertips, feel frozen. Tingeling, Tingeling.
I'm using my claws, no I don't want to fall.
But what use is climbing if it's just another wall.
My arms are growing soar, don't know if I'll remain. And I'm wondering every second, does my grasping cause you pain?
As I'm losing my grip you manage to engulf me, I can go nowhere, but, oh I feel so free.
The smooth skin that is your palm is catching my secure. Yet the feeling's of short notice, and the gap it leaves...
I can't endure
Something inside me snaps, a rubber band too elongated. A fallen twig perhaps, with it's touch to the ground, fated.
I hear it echo and avert my eyes to you.
All I see are the snowy flakes of your undying.
Now, what am I to do?