Worries like Winter

Hear the soft wind howl,
spilling through my window dusty,
scattering my snow white draperies.

My skin tingles all over,
and my body shivers with pinches of ice,
while I huddle up in an old, old blanket.

Winter's lovely chill,
flooding, surrounding me invisibly,
he makes his way through the room.

Why I am so cold,
it's not my raging fever for sure,
but I don't really know why.

He sends his beloved,
thousands of butterflies swim through me
like in mass hysteria, their paranoia crying.

My confused heart,
pounds a thousand heart beats,
as a thousand thoughts cross my mind.

As icy fingers hold me tight,
freezing pricks of pent-up apprehension,
rush to flood my blue, blue veins.

I put on a jacket,
to stop my restless shaking
but Winter's breath seeps right though.

My eyes squeeze shut,
as I try to endure
the blizzard raging in my mind.

When the storm passes,
tensely I still grip my knees,
sitting frozen in utter confusion.

My eyes wide open,
they're staring at the see-though nothings
cheeks irritated by dry tear-salt.

I have a question,
Mr. Winter? Please answer me:
Can you tell me, when you'll be gone?