A shitty run down turqousie chevy,

with a dented silver door on the left hand side,

crawling from the passengers side to yours,

sitting in the lap of a past lover,

cold fingertips drawing simple designs on tear stained cheeks,

between mentions of love for the very first time,

after coming home in the middle of a blizzard,

parked in drifts of powdered snow,

with the soft sound of music playing in the background,

watching headlights flash by without a care in the world,

Basketball shorts and broken in cowboy boots,

a leather jacket strung over cold shoulders,

the first words of love slipped past chapped lips,

A first loves kiss,

before the love runs cold,

because jealousy makes the heart cold,

and they run off with someone else,

a waste of time,

a first love can be,

when a heart gets broken because someone didn't know how to say goodbye,

in the right way,

from kissing in white podwered snow,

to screaming at each other in the cold,

because you kissed her with the same passion that you kissed me,

in the same car, in the same way,

Lips couldn't admit a lust for someone else,

looking back at the winter's memories,

I wish I had never fell in love,

with those pale dimpled cheeks,

or the strawberry blonde waves that ran in your eyes,

the calloused fingertips,

or the heavy sighs that left your lips in between stolen kisses.

There, winter memories of you still cloud my mind,

from time to time.