If all romance meets tragedy,
I want to die a violent death with you;
Hand in hand, wearing smiles on our faces.
We’d collapse in a bed of red snow.
Both of us,
Side by side,
Laughing with wild abandon.
It’d be cold, the way you like it.
And you’d be pale, the way I like it.
The smoke of our breath masking the winter stars
Until it doesn’t anymore.