the Art of Winter

Your body was ice over the snow-touched flowers
the hours slowly stained blue onto your skin
in the dusk you were a bloodless lover  
but I loved you anyway
 
Your heart was stone on the wastes
frozen in it's own special way
turning your head away from the sun
your smile was fixed onto the dark
maybe I should have run
but hell I'm so enamored by death
I needed the sting of your touch
 
Covering the earth in winter's cloak
I became the very thing I loathed
my breath turned to frost in a heartless world
and my sun kissed skin stained blue
over the lifeless flowers outside the wood
 
Listless liars, loveless lovers
a heartless artform on bitter snow
and our hearts don't beat anymore
bloodless kisses on sinning lips
that stopped singing long ago