i hold hands with winter as summer blurs. it's an elusive touch, a subtle feel, a barely-there caress of cool fingertips. that's how it always is; the transition from winter to summer is always a gentle one, nothing harsh that may make me feel dizzy the way autumn and spring does.
i sit on a chair, on my balcony in my chilly apartment, and i'm watching winter as she takes over the city, one person in need of warmth at a time. she moves slow, almost hesitant with her movements, as if she's scared. it's already eight p.m. and i'm drinking iced-tea, and although i should be cold, should be rubbing my hands down my arms, should be wearing gloves or at least a scarf- i'm warm.
maybe it's because my balcony is quite small and heat doesn't really have an escape path, or maybe it's the familiarity that comes with the season, that specific homely touch the air gets and the reassurance of it all.
i am alone, yes, but it doesn't feel like it. not when the wind is (quite literally) all around me, playing piano with the surface of my skin and using the thin strands of my hair as guitar strings- the melody created a quiet spinoff of winter wonderland.
looking down on my city, it seems as if the stars have fallen out of the sky, leaving it lonely and crepuscular. the lights down below imitate what should have been in the sky.
i light a candle and feel cold.
□ NOTES
hiii <3 i wrote this for an eng essay one year and
i thought it was good ☺ what do u think?
