It was winter;
I remember the sugary frost coating our windows, and the powdered snow piled upon our rusted roof.

I remember how each breath seemed to linger in that closeknit cab,
trapped.
We were both too shy,
so we sat together, enjoying the silence of everything we weren't brave enough to say just yet.

I remember the way your lips trembled then parted
an hour too late,
each careful letter tumbling free
with an awkward grace,
before falling perfectly into place.

I remember how your words tasted against my eager tongue,
raw like the ocean air,
but for the life of me I can't remember
if they were a confession
or a warning.