Forces of Nature

Winter,

she's the ice queen with a killer smile,

frosted knives for nails and a hint of peppermint in your morning coffee,

waking you up for another round of mistakes.

Spring,

she's the dead flower you never bothered to water in the back of your mind,

and still managed to flourish anyway,

the slight warmth on the first day of the year where the breeze and her memory stops making you shiver.

Summer,

she's the girl with the red lipstick and a body full of curves you can't handle,

a ruthless tongue full of bullets that mirrored your secrets,

the only ride in your amusement park of misery that would ever make you scream at night.

Fall,

she's the unkempt bed of cinnamon cookies you love coming home to,

the one you can't dismiss with a simple just friends card after a night beneath her soothing body,

an echo of karma slicing through the walls of your heart after she's done causing your addiction to her ginger sprinkled kisses.