It was in the gray fall clouds that I met her. My hands
quivering as my nerves were shot with lightning
and out to the world around me.
My northbound hair done neat and tidy, her hands
were colder than the breeze encompassing us. It was
the start to an age eclipsing seasons. But
like all else, everything ends. The crisp leaves
and our optimistic qualities fell at equal rate. Winter
came around and stomped out all the seedlings
too undeveloped to withstand it. For all of our journey,
good and bad, went out the door. And this
cold and bleak finale consisted of screams
and shells of what once stood in it's place.
After tears evaporated, so too did all we stood for.
A monstrous, cyclical, almost-love.