The Cold

It started in my toes

A dull ache

That grew into a deep throb

Then a pain settling into the bone

My fingers were next

This time the pain came first

Without warning

The tendrils climbed up my limbs

Wrapped around my chest

Till my lungs burned

Heart stuttured

With blue lips I asked,

“Do you still love me?”

You smiled.

Frost creeping past your white teeth.