Dear Winter Love

I think we must have confused who one another was during our first meeting. Your need for freedom seemed to match my passion for death, but consequently, they don’t mix. To be physically free requires life, and well quite frankly while my love for death is freedom, it demands an absence of actualization you weren’t willing to commit.

I realize more and more every day that I am in no need of you. You’ve always known this. My heart is still snagged on my sleeve. It seems you have this innate need to control me, to the point where your presence stirs a desired escape within me, every time. Your pride attempts to belittle my glory, and in the end, that is what made me leave.

The freedom of your soul is now hitched to my presence. My entrapment lies behind your glares. Love is war. Only one of us can truly be free. When you love, you are always considering someones freedom over your own.

You question everything. Always judging the ways I choose to die slowly on this earth. Yet you blame me for your own suffering. Demanding answers to your questions and only sifting through the revelations you decide to accept.

Sometimes I pray you’ll find someone fit to love you and other days I push you into their arms. You mean everything to me, but I know you, the minute I end this commitment you’ll divorce our memories and fulfill the destiny I placed upon myself. So I stay. That’s what you’re supposed to do right? Fight, remain loyal.

Loyal to whom, to what? If I lose you, then I lose your touch and your support. But I don’t lose myself.

I remember thinking so much about the cold. How winter began us and brought our end. I remember thinking how strong I was choosing to stand outside in the cold all alone. To keep myself warm. It became clear that the overwhelming sense of ennui that existed even in the joy of summer was you. That all this time I was my own passion, prosperity.

It confused you the way I stumbled out into the cold, naked and unafraid, wild and so sure.

My winter love, you never kept me warm.

Miss Parisia B.

Photo by Will Turner on Unsplash

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  1. So deep P! But it hit me right in the heart and truly brought a tear. It’s your truth but it’s the glove that fits so many. Love you P. 😘

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