philosophy

He called me cold-hearted

when I tried to explain it

panted it out as we shucked down the mountain

eyes cast down towards the roots of things

the roots jutting out, growing over the snowy pathways,

ready to turn us on our heads.

I said I was 

an existentialist, because really,

what else can we be?

Besides, he had asked me.

He called me cold-hearted

before I could finish.

(I did not much care what he called me

or how he saw me).

Besides, I knew for a fact that my heart

would never grow cold

or even lukewarm, no.

I will never be that lucky.