In Spring we dreamed of
flowers, yellows and oranges
and fresh grass, green
with envy for the
Summer

We held hands and
kissed along beaches
whispering secrets
against sunsets
on sand that burnt
the spaces between
our toes

It's November now
and we don't look
at each other,
our backs pressed
together, the outline
of our misery
blazing, racing the
flames of the
bonfire

I was dreading the winter,
the stale smell of Christmas fairies
that have lived in the attic
all year

I knew that if you left
then
I wouldn't follow you
out into the snow

I cling my arms
around your shoulders
like tinsel, draped
and static, falling
flecks of colour

I couldn't think
of a present so
instead I wrapped
myself, tight,
against the frost
that threatened
our future

swallowed down
all the things you did
that made my skin
scream, forgave
myself for drifting
away from you
and decided
to stay

by your side

as you poured whiskey
into the expensive glasses
we were saving

(not the cheap ones
we smashed against
walls)

touched drinks

and sat

with my head fitting
(a little too tightly)
into the crook
of your arm