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nostalgic nonsense.
Soft, cool air in shattered lungs, mist
floating delicately in the opening of
forest, silence surrounding
solemn souls, secret
sadness simmering
simultaneously about in the
cold.
Picturesque frost grows upon
branches of a figure that once
sheltered copious life, the
gentle breath of a deer, confused,
woken early to a cool winter
brooding despondency.
I take our your black lighter and a
cigarette, go to light it but I
can't shake the sense that I'm
breathing in a dream
- it's not right for me to
fill my soul with
toxic dregs.
Hypothermic lake glimmers the
reflection of a sunrise that
wakes, tranquil rays of sunlight
kiss tiny
diamonds of
snow.
In the distance, I can see
the place I
used to
know
you.
- Charlotte Griffiths
Published by Charlotte E.E. Griffiths
6 years ago 
