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She’s an angel…

who’s forgotten she has wings
but I can’t help her remember
down to earth, like the snow
in the winter, December
and there’s nothing I can say
in cold gasps of air
as my lungs thick with it’s pressure
now collapse and bear
my soul, exposé
more as if it was written
for if she is the frost
then I have been bitten
and with it, the story
the coldest ever told
of the lost snow angel
and the frostbitten soul…

llike so many times before
I remind her
who she is to me, truly
if only she could find her
wings… they’re right there
attached to her back
I just pray she doesn’t fall
and not find them after the fact
or that it never gets that far
or gets that hard
I just want it as in my memory
if that’s par
and in the shard is the story
the coldest ever told
of the lost snow angel
and the frostbitten soul….