Winter left without you. Now it's spring; a time of renewal. A time of renewal, but where are those promises you left? Promises escaping easy from your lips, thoughts of wonder, thoughts of ritual, rites of passage, togetherness. Promises broken and left ashen on the floor.
Months have passed from miles away, but I still hear your promises, cast down copper and fiber. In my dreams I still hear those promises, so distant, and distance is something in which I'll never believe. Not when your eyes catch the light that way. Not when your hair cascades along your shoulders like that. Your lips curl knowingly and I can't believe in distance that way. I never will. Not like that.