parker quinn

winter

i want a winter that’s long and cold. bitter cold. no matter how close my space heater is, i still want to feel cold. a winter that is so long that all i do is complain about it for weeks and pray for sunshine. i want a winter that forces me to tightly hold a warm body against mine through the night. i want bare feet creaking on my hardwood floor, music playing quietly, white lights still hanging from the holidays, and candlelight. i want red eyes, a pink nose, blue hands, a black sky and white ground. i want deafening silence and the crunch of snow under my boots. i want a winter. a real winter.