Elongated fingers claw at my scarf
As I walk down this narrow and lonely road
Between the bakery and the local consignment shop.
Only the brave venture the snow storm,
Only the strong return home safely,
Only the wise find a way forward.
The lost ones, the ones who wonder narrow roads,
Call back to les femmes de la neige,
The tarnished creatures lingering on the road side,
Hidden in the far corners of alley ways;
Endless piles that soar heights, yet invisible to the eye.
They whisper of loneliness, of endless woe, a soft place to rest,
A bed to sleep away the sorrow.
They breathe your name, a puff of heat in a white tundra,
Because, you see, I could walk anywhere I like,
But I walk the lonely narrow road
To remember spring has come before;
One day it will come again.

Time is such a heavy concept, it falls like a rock but flies like a feather. The more you try to ignore it, the more it burns you; if you were to stare it in the eyes, you would likely go blind. What I'm trying to say is, I hate thinking that in less than 3 months, I won't have an excuse to see you everyday. That, in less than 90 days, they'll give me a piece a paper that is the key to the cage forbidding our distance. In less than 4,400 hours, I'll be packed and a couple hundred miles away. Of course, it'd only be 2,102,400 minutes until I dawn the cap and gown and am released into the world, but God only knows where you'll be and who you'll be with. So, in these last 7,776,000 seconds we have until they call our names and we walk the stage, I'm asking if it's worth it.

You are such a beautiful thing. Brighter than any star, stronger than any metal, softer than any heart... even though you try to convince me otherwise. Call me jealous and selfish, but the thought of you loving another makes my heart concave in a silent implosion. I think it's so very ironic that my heart decided to stop working not long after we said goodbye. It's like a small child that knows what it wants: your arms around me, your lips on mine, your smell on my clothes, your laughter in my ear, your beautiful brown eyes staring back into mine... and I wonder if it's been too long. And I wonder if 7,776,000 seconds is worth it.

I still have your tshirt.
I found it a few days after giving you back your stuff --
I'm not sure why I still have it, but it hasn't moved
Still on the bottom of my dresser drawer.
There've been 147 nights where I've wanted to crawl in it
And sleep like I used to, but I'm stronger than that, right?

Do you remember how I stole your tshirt?

We were hanging at your place when I got really sleepy
And you knew I absolutly cannot sleep in a bra.
You were a gentleman and left me to change
Into that baggy grey tshirt you offered me.
I crawled into your bed and began to drift off
While you finished messing around on your computer.
After a while you came to lay with me. I remember you
Kissed my forehead, or maybe my shoulder, probably both,
But we laid together and just forgot the world;
Completely entangled in each other in the most innocent of ways.

It's one of my favorite memories,
But I can understand if you need it back.
I've held on to it too long, clutched it too tight
Now that lifeline is cutting my palms,
Trying to find a way back to you.

Earth showed me her heart, and I feel obligated to brag.
The yellow beat of its core reached to me,
stretching over the miles as if it were a Sunday stroll.
Its brilliance enraptured me in pinks and oranges;
spilling her love like a drunk poet after heartbreak:
               beautiful yet tragic.
Framed in the white snow; pouring over the slumbering land,
singing to it as a Mother should to a restless child.
Paint strokes, long and smooth, parallel the canvas edge
like a signature move to Earth's greatest artists.
Earth showed me her heart, and I felt my own skip a beat.