You would be an iceberg ready to collapse in an avalanche; you would be the lonely little feet dangling from the ski lift; you would be a wooden house stood hunched back in the cold.
I would be the fireworks that sound like every beat of your heart chanting to your own memories; I would be the tiny spark of fire that strangers forget to put out when they visit; I would be the moon high up in the sky arching my back to look at you standing alone in the snow arching yours.
