Beneath the freshly fallen snow, a single flame still burns,
Its gentle smoke seeks the oxygen of freedom for which it yearns,
Unable to be extinguished in spite of the flood that came,
This fire still burns in silent sleep, until my love releases its flame.
Obscured by trails of consequence and timing out of place,
Paled by circumstances dashed in ghostly white across my face,
Asleep, yet awake, but comatose... breathing to stay alive,
Blood still flowing within my veins, until my love again can thrive.
Weakened, my pulse... shallow my heartbeat... transient my mind,
Almost dead, to try and forget the pain I have left behind,
Darkness surrounds me within my grave, motionless and still,
Unwilling to be released, until my love returns me my will.
My wounds are covered in bandages, and stitched together with thread,
Doused in antiseptic and alcohol, in a cast from foot to head,
The IV seeping the nutrients and morphine into my veins,
Numb and unable to feel a thing, until my love removes my pains.
And so I wait... incapacitated. Unable to make a sound,
Until the love that left me, returns to me and turns the spell around,
A Sleeping Beauty of my own... entombed... until these lips are kissed,
By the Princess, wherever she may be, that eternally, I have missed.