In your eyes, I was a sketch of snow, All soft and white, with a quiet glow. My dear, please, just take a glance, Put in your lenses, give truth a chance. If I were snow, I’d melt away, But not for love, That love, it flamed like drawn on fire, No warmth beneath its fake desire. The night you came, with rain so cold, That fire failed to take its hold. If I were snow, then rage would burn Right through me. I would never return. In that moment, I’d find you dear, As warmth would fall like a single tear. But you lost your chance to see me shine, When summer days would make me mine. The snow is gone, and so are you, Your kisses vanished with the dew. Evaporated from my curls, Now lit by sun in golden swirls. The heat feels bitter, yet still less Than seeing you, in your regretful mess. Stare all you want, the loss is yours, I’ve closed and locked those heavy doors. Now my smile disturbs your gaze, You see me standing tall these days. It’s not that I have raised my head, You’ve just bowed yours instead. And that “sorry” in your eyes? Why try, when truth and silence ties? The page you starred in Torn and gone, But in my drawer, it lingers on. Folded deep, it waits its turn, For when, if ever, I might yearn. But those days are rare, I rarely ache. And that, my dear, is my lucky break.