12°C

As sure as the
leaves howl and their
tired branches reach and tremble
I was certain your scent would
linger, wrapping itself around
my fingers like a rosary, a
fragrance to adorn my
neck like jewelry

As green as the
mountains roam and as
brave as the ocean, I
felt our footstep's journey, I
believed in forever-ness, I
accepted our trust

But like the cold, painted halls of
cathedral walls or the
dying dew of winter, we are
empty, faded, dimming
I glance at vacant rows and
rooms without souls and
hear its swollen sound

Your memory was
warm as wool around my
shoulders, but with the
season swell, winter cried and
its fondness yawns and pales

My breath can barely melt the
frozen silver, and as I
glimpse your far-off figure
walking in the distant cold,
I don't miss you anymore.