trembling hands
and cold fingers
longing for something
to hold on to.

the thought of you
runs through my veins
every now and then.

but eventually
it all fade.

the vivid image
of beautiful memories
of yesterday.

like scattered papers
and shattered glasses.
no one wants them back.

not me.

not even you.

now crumbled hopes are
held in my palms
waiting to be buried
in the snowy grave
on a cold dead winter.

may the ghost
of you
be gone
forever.