Temporary warmth

The icy dread of Old Man Winters breath 
Eats through my flushed skin, causing the leaves to meet their scheduled deaths 
He steals the Warmth that I once called "mine" 
This Warmth, no longer mine, now sails through the air 
That Warm air, carries on past my cold hands 
Burning and forcing them to seek out a new Warmth 
A new immediate Warmth that comes only from touching the skin of a Sinner 
Embracing and becoming the Sinner, releases a powerful new Warmth, 
A heat. That battles The Old Man himself. 
Melting and christening the frozen world around me 
Thawing the ground and blooming the trees 
Changing the season, if only for a minute 
As the beautiful heat begins to fade, I am left cold and fighting for warmth, in a quickly freezing puddle of shame.

This poem is about: 
Me

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