Winter is the held breath, the enforced
silence while the bones settle.

Your fingers are cold. I found
them once in my pocket.

The way your lips moved I felt like a spy
receiving secrets, I could almost hear
the words falling upon my heart.

I remember the signature of every
snowflake that landed in your
eyelashes. The silence entangling the
world wasn’t a blanket for us to hide under.

All the fires lit one match at a time
but your lips never caught. I stopped
being surprised.

In a dream I lifted you
from a stone wall, grabbing you
around your thighs but you
were gone before I could put you down.
I reach for you again; the leaves
rattle past mocking emptiness.




.