once upon a cold morning, february was sitting in an empty parking lot forming smoke rings with the warmth of his breath against the crisp 6am air pretending they’re halos.     “do you believe in magic?” he asks with tired eyes. the first rays of sunlight slowly crept up behind him casting an angel-like glow on him. his question echos through your head. his touch was like an unspoken abracadabra that made all the hairs on your body stand up, his gaze alone could make you feel like you were flying so much closer to the sun than icarus ever did without your wings melting away, the sound of his voice an unending spell under which you did not want to break free from.    “you make me do.” you say. february had always looked cold, but there was a tiny furnace in his heart; its fire stoked by the beating hearts of new lovers.    "then kiss me.” he says.