For I am the Winter
BY DEBORA MERID
I saw you across the room with her wrapped around you, you shining with your striking emerald shirt, like the beautifully taunting skin of a cobra clothed around its dangerously poisonous veins, just like the beauty you falsely showed was just a façade for the ugliness beneath, whispering sweet nothings to her ear as if you couldn’t see me staring at you spitefully
across the room, as if you couldn’t feel my eyes hatefully piercing the back of your head, oh but I wish it was hate for it would be so much easier to hate you, you parade her around me knowing that you were winning our eternal game of hurt as you twirled her around like the useless piece of jewelry, she was to you, a mere pretty thing to show off at your hand but who says little things stupid as decors in our little games didn’t hurt. You let go of her slowly hypnotizing her to stay still with your eyes, oh those eyes. Smiling at her knowing she will sit and wait for your attentions once again, for even the devil doesn’t have your charm my dear.
You came towards me with a sense of purpose others might mistake for pompous, but I have learned my lesson long ago that your pride should never be mistaken for arrogance, you came and whispered in my ear, making me shiver, not from the cold but from your body so close to mine, ever so lightly “Meet me at my room, wait ten minutes till I leave, my little flower.” I nodded and laughed silently to myself as you left and that poor girl looked for you thinking you would come back, remembering I was that foolish girl once, but that was long ago I thought as I got up walking briskly towards your room, not noticing how naïve I was to not know how similar I was to that foolish little girl except she waited and I followed. I always couldn’t choose the less painful path.
I walked into your room with a sneer on my face and said ”do you think your little show back there would drive me away?” “I hoped it would, what do you want from me you stubborn little girl! You know I cannot love, my father was a drunk and my mother a scornful woman who blamed me for her misfortunes, how can I give you something I never had.” ”Oh John you
stupid, stupid man” I said as I slipped my hand into his shirt and felt his heart beat as it pounded powerfully in his heart moving my poor little fragile hand with it, ”Do you feel that, that heartbeat that could quake a thousand earths, that is a heartbeat of a man who can love, and I refuse to
believe that you wont give it a chance. That you won’t let that warmth and caring inside you that is begging to come out, that is begging for someone else to feel it that you won’t at least try.” And as I slowly held his hands in mine I said with the most hopeful voice I could muster ”And you cannot tell me that these hands who hold my own so tenderly don’t care at least an ounce for me, for an ounce is all you need to try, to try to have more.” He slowly looked away to the floor and I fiercely grabbed his chin and made him face me saying “I know we hurt each other more than anything, pain each other mercilessly but I love you my dear foolish man, I love you
and you cannot tell me that you don’t share at least a little bit of those feelings back, look at me John and answer me!!! ”I shrieked refusing to believe this was all for nothing, ”Oh my dear, you are like a flower blooming in the light of the sun, if there is one thing your parents did right it was name you, oh but my dear beautiful Rose you can only survive in the summer and you would wither and die with me, your petals would blacken and fall away as your stem will become too weak to support you and you would fall painfully, oh so painfully my dear flower, for I am the winter” he said looking at me with a burning intensity in his eyes which showed such pain within them that not even the coldest war could reflect it. “Good thing I love the cold, and I would plunge myself into even the darkest parts of hell if it meant I could get you to love me back.” And with that I grabbed his shirt and kissed him with such force and passion that it would make the
proudest tavern wench on earth to cower and blush beneath me. For he might be the winter, but he has started a fire in me that can never be extinguished. And what can I say? Except fire melts ice every time. And I will melt his frozen heart if it’s the last thing I do. And as our embrace ended I looked at him straight in the eyes and said” For you might be the winter but, winter never lasts forever, and my bloom, can wait for it is your turn to feel the summer of another. ”
About the Author
Debora Merid is a 14 year old writer from Ethiopia.
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