A bitter taste lingers on my tongue,
A metal flavor from the scarlet beads
From my split lip
Scabbed, broken knuckles bruise over and ache
A sinking feeling in your stomach
A numbness in your hands
And a chill that never goes away
Bundled up, layered coats
But still feeling like the wind blows right through you
Hopping over snow banks, lining entrances to sidewalks
And melting in your shoes
A tingling in your feet
Your flesh screaming red from the cold
Ears and cheeks rosy coloured
Hands aching from the cold metal
Swinging your feet back and forth
At the park, chains imprinting on your palms
Freeing
Rhythmic
Feeling like you’re flying,
If only for a moment

Feathered eyelashes
And sharp eyebrows
A scar above your eye
I miss your touch
I miss your subtle language
In the way you moved
In the way you laid your head on my chest
The beating of your heart
Pressing against my body
Warm, comforting
Melting warmness that made me drowsy.

Roots
Leaves, branches
Tall trees stretching to the sky
Shadows cast onto the field
Where we would lay,
Tracing the patterns in the stars
Chains of silver and gold
Flowers I would weave into a crown
Or just simply tuck behind your ear
I remember holding your hand
Cold metal from
Rings that gleam
In the dim light

My hands are bare, cold
The edges of my hoodie sleeves only barely drape over my wrists
As I sit in this mind-numbing room
Chills in the air
My knuckles are reddened by the cold
And not even looking out the window
To my right
Could help me feel better
Or even more at peace

This morning the sun reminded me of that house
Waking up at 4 am
The gold cutting through the clouds
The subtle breeze
The birds calling in the distance
The quiet, rhythmic sound of the waves
As the tide comes in
The crunch of the sand and small shells under my feet
The cool water around my ankles
The warm sun streaming through the window
The ache in my heart when I think of waking up in that room
Although it's winter in New York
When the sun was blurred by the foggy clouds this morning
It gave me a sense of longing for Summer
For Maine
For that house and the beach
For those sensations and that all-too familiar ache
The tide pulling at you
The chill of the water
The crashing of the waves
The serene and perfect-ness of it all.
I miss the beach.