The seasons of you

                 Is this the way winter’s supposed to feel?

                      Our skin so fragile, weary and blue? 

                      I’d like to say time melted us away

                      for you are the snow that dissolves in the

                      palm of my hands and I will miss you. 

                      Is this the way summer’s supposed to feel?

                      You’re slipping right through my finger tips

                      like sweat dripping down a summer night cheek. 

                      I’ve spent a thousand summer nights with you 

                      and I will spend a thousand more by placing

                      my bones in city streets just to get through.

                      Is this the way fall’s supposed to feel?

                      That sinking feeling within my body as the

                      truth of your fading existence rises?

                      I will remember your outline and with my 

                      eyes closed I will illustrate your silhouette 

                      underneath my bruised and weary eyelids.

                      And in the midst of spring shall I 

                      bloom to forget you. 

                      I’ll begin to let go until the pieces of

                      you have drifted far from me.