Winter

a short poem

His love is winter, cold and sporadic.
Into the dark, I am neglected.

His affection is snow, vast and sharp.
It is everywhere and nowhere,
Suddenly changing without regard.

His words are fog, deceptive and thin.
They leave much to be desired.
Hope is gained then torn away.

His love is winter, cold and sporadic.
Into his darkness, I am lost.