You are my season that never changes. Beautifully stagnant intervals as I ache for your warm summertime flecked smile. The latent crimson streaks of auburn in your hair tumbling all over again and again with each memory of peek a boo strands brushed from your weary face. I let a single finger fall across that one laugh line of a gloriously crooked smile, the one I long to watch spread across your face. Oh, that smile, your smile, leading the way to black marks on linoleum across the kitchen dance floor, my decadent necessity as your laughter which is no doubt my lifeline, keeping me warm in the bitterness of a lonely winter, longing for you. Still. Spring comes and you remain.






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