arctic winter.

I just want it to be cold.
A bitter, painful wind
There to hurt me as I walk outside.
Out these doors.
I want to be wrapped up.
To have to be made warm.

I want someone to offer me their warmth.
To share it with me.
To give up some of their own survival.
Their own self.
Their own being.
For me.

But the harsh wind blows,
Biting at my reality.
An acrid, pungent vinegar.
But someday
The aftertaste will pass.
A new experience. A new sweetness.