I met you when the snow was soft and gentle,
falling in sumptuous flakes on the emerald expanse of the grass.
I met you when the buildings caught the vagabond flakes
and gave them a new home.
I met you when the air was frigid,
biting my cheeks to leave heart shaped bruises.
I met you when everything was dark and cold and beautiful
and nothing made sense to me.
I met you when all seemed lost and the world was a desolate place
with no room for a sad, simple girl.
You seemed to apparate from thin air,
all messy black hair and dancing blue eyes.
You seemed to expand from the snow itself,
pale and lethal in your beauty.
You kissed me under a lamp post,
and the streetlight illuminated every exhale of our breath.
You warmed me with your kind words
and large sweaters
and cups of coffee.
You wrapped me up in blankets
and fed me poetry and kisses
and stayed up late listening to my idiotic ramblings.
Then the snow began to thaw,
and as the largest ice shard melted from the tallest building,
you told me you had to go.
You gave me no time to process,
no beautifully flowing words of condolence
or even perfectly phrased cliches.
You just left.
One day you were the center of my world,
all the heat I had left,
and the next day I had to turn on the A.C. to keep cool.
But I felt that everything was okay
because surely you would return when the next snow fell.
Surely you were my winter lover.
I await you,
year after year,
waiting for the day you will embrace me
and offer me your sweater
and warm my icy hands.
I wait for you until my skin grows creased with the years
and my hair grows white with the snow.
Yet as the years go on in their dreary trudge,
I forget your eyes
and the poetry you read me.
I forget your gentle smile
and the color of your sweater.
I forget your voice
and the way my name tasted on your lips.
I forget your name.
My mind eradicates everything about you
until all I have left is a face I don't recognize in the mirror
and a sweater three sizes too large.
Sometimes I have to wonder if you were real at all.
YOU ARE READING
I Never Knew...
Poetry❝Poetry is eternal graffiti written in the heart of everyone.❞ - Lawrence Ferlinghetti Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly inspired, I write poetry. I hope you like it. © lumosgranger