When winter creeps in with its bite,

I find scraps of us tucked away like secrets.

I unearth these remnants,

Wrapping my spine in the fabric

that still echoes your scent.

My veins, restless rivers beneath my skin,

seeking their path, constantly shifting.

For the one I'll love next,

I gather the night itself.

Despair hums softly in the stillness;

for the love I seek, 

I trace sorrow among the stars.

Now the sea is my library,

the waves my pages,

In the whispers of the wind,

I hear forgotten tongues.

The soft hiss of waves mingles

with my thoughts as they curl up

along the shore, leaving frothy edges

that dissolve into nothingness. 

A quiet moment inside a deep breath,

carried on the breeze is a hint of salt

mingled with something else–

something almost familiar but out of reach.