Remember The Night The Snow Stayed
My mom says, “Everybody loves to feel loved. Everybody loves to be desired. There is nothing wrong with making someone feel good.”
You are more than another set of eyes. But those set of eyes probably won’t read this. Those set of eyes stopped reading things like this a long time ago.
The first time it snowed, I stood by the fire and I watched as the boy walked across the parking lot to greet me. It wasn’t foggy, and your arms never crossed my mind.
The third time it snowed, it fluttered and it stuck to my lips. I tasted joy and made a face. I didn’t think of you, or him, or anyone.
The night the snow stayed, I admitted to myself I was happy where I was.
I think, you would love to see me this happy.
I had so many dreams about you. You on a boat. You in my bed. You climbing over people to get to me. You blistering in the sun. Me applying sunscreen to the creases under your eyes from all the smiling. You in another bed. I dreamt that one while in bed beside someone else.
Sometimes I’d dream of lions, like the ones I saw at the Glyptoteket. They were called love. Yes, I thought to myself, I have written that before – a lion as a metaphor for love. The same way the boy in the movie waits for the lion. The same way everybody is worried about the girl in the poem because she’d wait for the lion too. In this story though, everything is the lion. I am the lion, my heart is the lion, you are the lion. What I mean is, we are all a little ferocious when it comes to love. For me, that means throwing my body in the line of fire because I want to wear every hit like another badge of honour. I don’t care whether you think that’s courageous or moronic, I’m going to do it anyway. Nobody is going to tell you you’re wrong, or like you any less, if you choose to fight something as monumental as love – they might just be sorry you missed out on it.
But because of this, and so many other things, I can’t hold your smile between my palms. Or stand with you in my window. I am never mad at you for this, only a little sad.
My mom says, “Everybody loves to feel loved. Everybody loves to be desired. There is nothing wrong with making someone feel good.” She says this to make me feel better when I feel like I am giving too much again. It works.
She says, “Remember the night the snow stayed.” 
