I felt safe once.

When the summer breeze wrapped itself around us on the old porch swing.

You would slide your hand against mine, lacing our fingers together.

The seasons changed.

Freshly fallen flakes, became balls of snow, taking on the shape of snowmen.

Light kisses on the nose and mittened hands embraced.

Foul weather interrupted.

Spinning, Spiraling, Falling out of love.

A tornado of pain,

Fever pitch.

Over.

And Gone.

Remnants of a shredded soul remain.