I've tried hard to keep you.
I've done everything and yet nothing.
I've held you every day, warmed your shaking limbs,
talked and laughed and dreamed
only of you, for you, with you by my side.

My fingers, toes, ass, nose,
everywhere is freezing.
And you are shaking.
Even as I hold you, you are slipping
from my fingers like sand.

He is here with his hair and his crooked
smile, crooked nature, his not-so-there attitude.
Like he doesn't know what he's doing.
Like he doesn't know what I'm thinking.
Like he doesn't want to crumble my world.

Your hands touch him and I freeze,
the cold seeps into me.
No, this is not what I think.
There has been a misunderstanding in my brain.
This is merely a ghost of the past,
a regurgitated nightmare.

I'm yours, you say,
and every detail of every second is exactly
as it should be.
Your head is on my shoulder, your hand is in mine and
I'm yours.
But no. Oh, no.
You're not.

I am for the next three years.

I wonder then if I am luckier because I know the exact moment
in which Prince Charming will sweep
my princess
off her feet.
Three years of bliss,
with the knowledge that it will all end
in a moment.
Four years of love all amount to that one second
when your eyes fall upon his face
and love is found.

My Swedish Fish have frozen to the metal bleacher.
I imagine that my jeans have done the same
and that I will sit here forever
in the paralyzing cold.
You kiss me, kiss me again,
kiss me over and over.
I'm yours,
but still,
I wish you were mine.