I imagine you remember the way sunday morning light bounced off
her skin
I imagine you can vividly recall the way the curves of her lips turned up when she smiled to express
"I love you"
I imagine you replay the ending consistently, a cave filled with a
lack of closure.

But
Winter cures the wear of summer.
I am not her,
I am not summer,
I am not quiet,
I am not dainty,
nor have i spent years with you

I am a beginning,
I am the cold breeze that cools you,
I am the soft stream of light coming through your blinds that wakes you
exclaiming

" I love you, summer is only a season but I love you daily"