you wrote to me again, last night. i could feel your strong hands through the crumpled paper, and i was reminded of the way you spoke, of the way your thoughts would float around my room like cherry blossoms, lost in the sweet smell of spring.
and me, lost in the sweet escape of you. the hypnotizing way you brought me into your summer light, and showed me what it was like to live. what it was like to be unafraid. because with you, i never felt scared.
but the sun began to dry up. taking away the dewy, summery days, where you held my hand. your words became fallen autumn leaves, red and orange, as they crunched under the weight of the heavy boots i wore back before the spring.
and this is when the ice came; it frosted up your eyes, and i knew i wouldn't be able to get you back. your hand, that once was filled with life and love, now gave me frostbite; one that i cannot recover from, because you have drained me of everything that i have, and everything that i was.
when i was nine years old, i learned about the seasons. i knew that after spring, came summer. following the summer came fall. and following that, came the winter.
i still wonder why i could never remember my seasons, when it came to you.