Skye (No middle name, but I gave her one anyways) Stranton

As I type I shiver.

My body shakes uncontrollably.

This is the story of our lives.

My toes begin to numb.

My fingers lose feeling.

This is the story of our lives.

I hear the same words

over and over again.

I keep waiting for my body to regain heat

and to fill with warmth again.

but this isn't the story of my life.

I wish for my shoulders to stop shaking

and hope for my nose to stop running.

But it's too cold.

But not for her.

Nothing is too cold for her.

She takes my hand and guides me

to the light, to the heat.

She teaches me to dance and to stop

shivering.

Yes, we'll call it shivering.

But everyone knows that it wasn't.

But it doesn't bother me anymore

because now I'm warm.

Warmer than them I know it.

I see them shiver and try

to clutch one another for warmth.

And they see us dancing together,

the cold not bothering us at all.

The difference though is that they

are forcing the cold upon themselves

If something is cold then why would you

continue to hold on to it?

Wouldn't you instead seek for something to

protect you from the cold of this world?

Even seeking single is better than being

dragged down by someone that will only

keep you cold.

I bask in the warmth that we produce

and try to hand out mittens to those that

don't have what we have.

But they'll be warm someday too.

That's the story of our lives.

Warmth. Joy. Happiness. Peace.

I love you.

Drake (No middle name, but you gave me one ) Throte