I looked off in the distance, a horizon of mountains strung together, the whole range atop an alpine lake.
I looked out only to be fixated on your tanned skin wadding off in the water, the same skin that I’d watched darken in the summers sun, the same skin I became so familiar with under the covers of blankets and snow. Layered but much paler than your tone now, it always was winter months that inspired warmer thoughts.
But there you are, you’re no longer the warm thoughts I pined to grasp.
You’re here in view and more than I could’ve ever imagined, watching you unlace your boots and rip your socks off in rolled clumps as you marched through the overly saturated banks still recovering from the past, the thawing warmth of spring at the end of a snow season, just like you.
Taking high steps, you feel the mud tugging at your heels, attempts to hang on, to cling instead of breaking clean free only to be washed away with another plummeting progressive step. Each part of you beginning to drown a little more in the experience.
