Fire In Snow! Naila Hina

You play with fire in the snow

As if it is the cotton inflow

I'm attached to you like a

Dead being. Touch is slow

Running inside me like a

White blood stream's flow

We are good till we are

Friends. Problems grow

Once we get closer to

Each other and throw

Our caution to the wind

Our fights get too low

Our hearts belong to each

Other but to anger we bow.