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 Griffiths