Burning Whisky

It wasn't a welcome home parade,
just the cold breeze blowing
a confetti of light snow.

Stepping out of the house past midnight,
shirtless, bare footed, I expose my raw heart
to falling snow and bitter air.

I give in to the temptation, to stand still,
and let white powder cover my face, shoulders, arms
even as the porch light struggles to warm me

so unlike you-
effortless, efficient.

Pull me up close, let me wear you tight
like a heavy winter jacket, and fill your hands
to an overflow of me

while your hair brushes away the snow,
warming me up deep within
like a shot of burning whisky.