I wonder if I'm as lost as they say, if everyone is on the edge of discovering it. The footsteps in the snow are mine alone, you know. As we hike the mountain ***** together. You've put on his face, his jacket. You've warmed your hands to his temperature when you hold mine inside your pocket. And lift your head at just the angle he would, when I point out the breaking clouds. The sun is just on the edge of coming out, turning this icy tread into a blinding canvas above and below us. Just on the verge of turning you into a shadow and reminding me. Ever present, ever longing for you, that you are not here.
That there's somebody else wearing your face. And holding my hand. And wearing your jacket.
There's only one set of footprints here and behind
And where you were there's only me.