So, here I am, in a dark room illuminated by the red midnight sky as snow pours down from the heavens,
and I can't help but wonder if you're looking at the same sky.
As the seasons of fallen leaves and fallen lovers come to an end, we are still standing. And the thing is... well, can you say that you're the least bit surprised?
Where do we go from here, lover? It's the age-old question, but I'm not asking it.
It's the first real snow of the season, and I keep thinking about what a beautiful moment it would be to share with you. And if you were here, I would lace my fingers into yours and you would stroke my arm so tenderly, and your lips would whisper secrets to mine in the moonlight.
And perhaps I wouldn't say anything - it's not really our style these days, after all. But my fingers weaving between your fingers, my lips moving softly against your lips, my pulse against your chest, beneath your hand, between your legs, will tell you all you need to know.
So kick off your shoes and climb up into bed with me, lover. After everything that has fallen, there has never been a better time to fall asleep in your arms,
And we don't need to say a word.