Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray Man.
A/N: This is my first ever attempt on poetic fictions, so I hope this will turn out well. Just so you know, I'm horrible in poems, so don't expect too highly from me. Hope you'll enjoy this, though I am warning you now that it's useless ramblings.
The snow kept falling.
But she stood there,
With smiles he couldn't decipher.
Why is she so cheerful,
Even in this bitter cold?
He knew the answer.
And he thinks he doesn't want one.
She had people,
So many of them that one lost don't make a difference.
That one could be him.
From building the snowman,
She approached him,
Grabbed onto his warm yet cold hands,
Inviting him to join.
Why, he asks.
Because we're friends, she answers.
She continued to smile.
It was sincere,
Yet he was hoping for more than sincerity.
Her eyes touched him,
Eyes that searched for sincerity despite having sincere herself,
Eyes that showed grieve and sadness, yet gentleness and hope.
He wants to be like her,
Warm in the cold snow,
A heart that saw beauty in an ugly world,
The world he despises for the evilness,
Of wars and temptations.
He knows he is one of them,
His temptation being her.
Come on, Lavi, don't just stand there, help me build a big snowman, she says, excited.
You could have asked someone else, Lenalee, he says.
Her name sounded beautiful in everyone's mouth.
I want you to help me, she emphasized.
It is so troublesome, and the cold is making him lackadaisical,
Yet he agrees.
There is warmth in her,
And that drew him.
For a person who had known coldness for the longest time,
He seeks warmth in her,
The warmth that so naturally radiate from her.
The snow is cold,
Bitter cold.
But there is warmth,
He found it long ago,
From her.
A/N: When I wrote this, I was listening to a slow and rather emotional song and music. So I guess I conveyed the melancholy and hope well.
Flame me if I didn't, because I won't mind, and because I know I'm bad at poetry in the first place anyway.
Please review, and flame if you want to.