Snow deteriorates -
and so does our
love for one 
another. It tries to stay.
It fails to do so.
There's no luck in love;
Nor is there love in luck,
But loss in love increases,
and so does our heated blizzard.

I tell you that I love you, and
you reject the loss in your
love -
Which you once had 
for me.
What luck.

We play games with one -
another, not realizing
that life is like a movie -
Except no director tells us to 'cut,'
Nor do we get paid
To get hurt.

The pain increases,
And the heated blizzard
continues its spree of white
Death upon our love,
which had no luck,
but much loss
as the snow
deteriorates.