I try to let you go in my waking hours; I can't say I tried to move on, you were always too far. You come back to me in my dreamers haunt. I wake up with you in my head; Every morning, I rinse your aftertaste from my mouth with toothpaste (There is no relish in what's perished).

I know, I know it is so wrong to be this powerless, I know there are other things that need to be done; but the calluses only protect a softer core. I must stop sleeping in warm beds, now, that warmth softens my skin.

I'll wake up stiff and cold, and each day I'll grow a year old as I eagerly wait for the winters to come. I wait for December. Come soon, take me in your hold.

Hand impression on snow

(Image Credits)