Poetry

The Thought of You

Falling fast, the snowflake crumbles.
Slipping, sliding as it stumbles.

Knee deep, I chase after you.
Your footsteps imprinted
are too large

You turn to notice
And now I’m on your shoulders.

The footsteps look smaller
from so high up
farther away
and soon gone forever

To reach, to dream, to slip, to break
To stumble, get up again, and take
a step back from reality

White walls, white styrofoam, wide-eyed
White snow, white tiles, white-knuckled

Lump in your throat.
Hung dry.
It’s okay to cry.

White turns to black and I’m lost again
Weak kneed, chasing after you

But where?

Black clothes, black sags, black umbrellas.
Black skies, black knuckles, black coffin

White turns to black
Black turns to grey
And soon color begins
to fade back into view

A little less than what you were
And very far from perfect

Always chasing
the thought of you

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