I waited for the flakes of snow to fall,
Like I awaited your call.
Was it foolish to believe in you?
Maybe, but wasn’t your love was true.
I thought you trusted me with your life.
Lies I say! You were ready to stab me with your knife.
Trust itself is a fickle ideal,
It wanes with a whiff of life’s feel.
So was I foolish to believe you at all?
Yes, but it didn’t stop me from being at your beck and call.

you know, i'm not sure, but will you be published soon. it's really good, ^_^ but i can't help with a title. sorry.

I actually just did get published, but not for this poem. The only problem with getting published is they don't want a poem that's anywhere online.