The 20 winters spend in New England means snow crunching under boots acts as a lullaby the nights I can’t sleep because your warmth isn’t filling the space next to me
Hoping your journey home wakes me enough to feel the freshly fed fire in the living room while I make you a cup of tea to warm your fingers and face enough to smile
But the spring showers erode layers built to hide the ruins left beneath
As if a massacre never happened here
My blood on his hands only appears on the bad days when I cannot shake his memory
But the rain also washes me anew
Promising me that ugly sometimes has to preface something beautiful
And goddamn you are beautiful
The summer sun illuminated the eyelashes on your cheek on lazy Sunday mornings through the curtains
Laying so peaceful in dreams
Leaves crunching under our feet as we giggle in the autumn breeze
Warming up in your arms on the couch, preparing ourselves for the colder months approaching once again
Only to find your side of the bed to be empty of a body
But full of yearning for you to have not given up