Green glasses
clink and
whispers float
on alcoholic lips
and we say
like it’s a possibility.
Snow falls
under sunny skies
and pieces of you
chip away
under the defrost
of a spring
aching to come.
Your footsteps
upstairs in rooms
you will never enter
and the carpet
gathers dust
from walkers
who will never be you.
The cold seeps in
like darkness
and I wonder
if the night
when we celebrate
will ever end.
I wonder
if my self-made winter
will ever subside.


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