a flower without scent,
wilted petals blooming in the cold of night,
you came to me like
the fog that encompasses you in the still of a hurricane,
the uncertainty that sifts through your heart before you
take the leap off the platform
and fall flat on the unmerciful ground.

in winter, you take what you get
somehow even surrounded with blankets full of snow-capped mountains and warm fireplaces oozing with love,
people still pick the dying breath of spring.

never being able to live in the moment
seems like such a pity to me.
we never get to fully appreciate the
monument of the moment till it’s over and
put up beautifully in a photo frame,
adorned with decorations and a
caption awarding the printed accessory
more than it deserves.