I am often intimidated by certain thoughts.
Whether or not I am to think the things I think.


Over by the nightstand where dust gathers against the shade.
It's been months since I opened my blinds.
Rather yet pretend that you'd still remember the last time it snowed.


The things said we never thought we needed to hear.
The truth over thought, gathered into a mound of snow.
With pieces of you, pieces of me.
We built a snowman.


Each time it snows I find myself more convinced.
That we covered up more of ourselves than we thought.
Becoming more, and more.
People that we'd never truly know.


Every time that it snows.
I find that there is no comparison to the frost bite that you left behind.

In reply to the promise; you'd never leave.

The things said we never thought we needed to hear.

Turned away in difference of opinion.

After everything has melted