{Originally written in 2021.}
I remember the cold winter mornings in the mountain town in the Rockies. I remember walking out in these such mornings with a friend of mine, Lukas.
Lukas had been arguably my best friend--no one could replace him.
He'd say some snarky comment about the weather. Then, he confessed that he actually liked this weather. I remember that.
I remember when he pulled me aside, whispered my name--Isaac--then he paused for a moment before kissing me beneath the bare tree.
This weather reminded me of him--reminded me of Lukas. But Lukas was long passed by now--left in his early 20's from god knows what; I had never had the courage to ask his family about it, on the account of the fact they never approved of our relationship.
As the first few snowflakes fell down on the sleepy Colorado town, I swore I could have saw our morning expeditions to the shop a little less than a mile away.
I remember that.
I took a long drag from my cigarette.
I remember. I remember.
YOU ARE READING
Shiver
Poetryꜱʜɪᴠ·ᴇʀ /ˈꜱʜɪᴠƏʀ/ ᴠᴇʀʙ (ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴏʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ) ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟᴀʙʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ. -- Short stories and poetry that heavily revolve around grief, death, and mental illness.
