A broken man writes a love poem:

That winter, that merciless Winter.
When all the leaves did die,
and with naught but tears to warm me
in sorrow did I lie.

That winter, that drew on like a blight.
I watched my breath to icy air leave me,
When I had lost all my air to screaming
which the frozen air could not see.

My pain. The knife they left there.
That I could never reach.
And in a pool of hidden blood
To you did I beseech.

And you drew it from my heart.
And did close the wound tight,
and brought new life and love to me
and made that never ending winter bright.

I am sorry for my wounds.
I am sorry for my scars,
I am sorry I am yours
I am sorry you have my heart.

But I trust in you like no other.
And have found safety in your arms
and with an outstretched arm I give you
my hands to hold in your palm.

Trust me in your weaknesses.
Take my hand in your fears,
Have my heart to warm your coldness
have my love to rest your tears.

Together, we will be stronger.
I am to be yours and you’re to be mine
And there’s no winter when I am with you
only an eternal fire to shine.

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