Writers 
WINTER ❄️ FOUR
Focused on the food
Until it was done,
As though I hadn't just seen that.
The cold grew stronger,
So did the fire in my heart
And in my hut.
I sat beside this stranger
Who somehow felt like home,
And slept like a woman
Who had everything,
Including what I never did.
I woke,
Still remembering
The feel of his hands.
I got up to hunt.
My clothes were there,
But he was gone.
Like a still ocean,
I stepped outside,
Not caring,
Just moving.
I hunted,
Traded my catch,
Then returned to the hut.
Water fell from my eyes
Like a slow waterfall.
Why did I hope?
No one wants me.
At my bedside
Lay the gold coins I had rejected,
And a tiny piece of his armor.
I asked myself,
Will my flower ever
Be attractive enough?
For a moment,
I felt hope.
My punishment, once again,
For being happy,
If only for a day.
Once again,
Left alone in the storm to die.
I cried.
But somewhere beneath the sadness,
A voice whispered,
Maybe he left because he had to,
Not because I was unworthy.
Maybe tomorrow would bring answers,
Or another chance
To believe my heart
Could still find warmth
In winter.
