It Shall Remain Nameless

You are no longer the object of my doting fondness. Once a manifestation of allure, your crooked tooth now juts out at me like a dagger as you speak listlessly. I am averted. Your skin greys with the winter solstice and as the days grow shorter, I, the vernal equinox and the cardinal fire alike, long for Spring instead. But you, oh, you. your wintery breath turned rancid and spewed forth your venomous bile like a viper. I placed you high in the sky, but then buried myself in the frozen earth because you could not manage me. Unconventional, impulsive, not like you, you damned introvert. You are no longer the object of my doting fondness.