#winterpoetry
I didn’t slam the door.
Didn’t make a sound.
I left the way snow falls,
soft enough
that no one notices
until everything is different.
The room was still warm
when I stepped out,
but the cold was already in me.
It had been there for a while,
growing in quiet corners,
freezing things I didn’t know how to fix.
You might say I disappeared.
That I drifted.
That I gave up.
But I didn’t leave all at once.
I left in pieces,
in the pauses between words,
in the silence after laughter,
in the moments that should have meant something
but didn’t anymore.
By the time I walked away,
there was nothing left to take.
Now it is quiet.
The kind of quiet that stretches.
The kind that doesn’t ask questions.
And if you look for me,
you won’t find footprints,
just a smooth layer of snow
where something used to be.
ĀŘÇ ❄️
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 8:59 AM UTC
Watching the snow fall
Touching the pavement, pelting the wall,
Melts time and time again, and call and call
On windy hilltops soft in the flow
Brighter and brighter, the streetlamps glow,
The robin orange-red breast on show.
Jan 4, 2022
Jan 4, 2022 at 12:16 PM UTC