He once traced my outline with the gentleness of his fingertips entrapping the crusade between my senses.
He once traced my outline while the first hints of dawn welcomed the sunlight on it's bare canvas of a horizon.
He once traced my outline as though each inch of my body added another year of life to his.
He once traced my outline as though he truly believed that my beauty was buried far beneath my skin.
You once compared me to every season. As if a change in the weather could fabricate the blueprints to my body and mind.
You said my body was summer, benevolent and alluring.
My mind became your spring, flourishing and reborn with each new morning.
My soul rendered to be your autumn, faintly morphing with captivation.
Yet, you had trouble discovering winter within me.
Perhaps it was because you melted every trace of frost away.
Or maybe it was because winter followed closely behind your steps once you left.