January. Those biting gasps of fresh air and freedom,
A landscape that once bore the ravenous winter.
February, the shortest of our time,
Running by, like a stream into its gulf of flow.
March, my breathing intertwined with your own.
I felt our hearts wake up and reach for each other.
June was the month of our euphoria.
All we could find, long beyond that cold and worn world,
Was the warmth of our bodies and thoughts.
The sun poured its beauty into us, and in a hazy slowness,
We were intertwined forever.
YOU ARE READING
Never In Spring ✓
PoetryAlways winter, never in spring, but she'll wait a thousand lifetimes for him. A personal account of a bitter, heartbroken lover's descent as she grows, watching her blooming love wither into nothing. Love poetry anthology. © elle sonder 2024
