Cold Metaphoric Winters.

I remember when you gave me your sweater as part of my Christmas gift. You had to have known that deep down inside it would make me happy. Because it was the simplest thing with such a deep meaning. Once upon a time that sweater had warmed you on chilly days, and later on it warmed me during cold metaphoric winters. But every time I wore it, I felt I had a piece of you. No one else in the world owned such a threaded article previously owned by you, feeling right at home but me. If I ponder long and hard, I still cannot figure out what part of your heart told you to pass it to me.

Through the cheery days I spent with you and the fragile nights I resisted your gravity, I was never left cold. If I do ever fall, I always stand up. And when I do I look straight ahead and smile. If I ever glance back I only see how far I've come. To love you was the step I took to stand against doubt and all hopelessness. And sometimes it's all because I, Stephanie Ann, managed to somehow plant myself inside your home of a heart when you never intended to let me in. I was the one who occupied your empty sweater, placing myself exactly where you once were for those cold, metaphoric winters that I spent thinking solely about you.

I couldn't have said this if you easily loved me back years ago.

Thank you for keeping me warm and teaching me how to love anyway.