release
The cold air breathes through the raindrops of my thoughts, dripping onto my heart, evaporating. The colder part of me wonders if she will return to me singing that song, or if a different tune will be her accompaniment. Small blizzards of emotion pass, and I see no clearer than before.
“It doesn’t mean much / It doesn’t mean anything at all.”
And there she stands, brown locks of shimmering hair which kindle the embers time had neglected. Preconceptions, pieces of mortal reasoning fall away at His prompting, and things unfold anew like the petals of a lily. Her eyes reflect the cloudless sky, and imitate the soft patterings of the creek beside our clasped hands. Fervent words are exchanged, blackened, crumbling crusts fall away and reveal warm, beating flesh…
“The life I’ve left behind me / is a cold one.”