Truthfully, I met you
in the coldest of times.
The snow burrowed into
the exposed edges of
clothing and equipment.
We were quiet,
and your voice rose above
the monotonous ricocheting
of metal and the density of flurries
to touch my ear.
That was when I met you,
underneath tightly zipped layers
and face masks that couldn't hide
the sound of a smile and
a horrible joke.
I parted ways with you
mere minutes later,
but rejoined in days with
sickly fingers and beautiful
façades like nostalgic nations.
In the ink on your shoulder,
I could smell ashes; maybe
Vesvigir led you in the wrong
direction towards me.
We're both lost.
Then...you left, we left,
pulling one tight against the other.
You promised a return,
but wished me "Dasvidaniya".
I knew the truth.
Perhaps, you had to return...
We were lost, bound to pull
away. My mouth against your
shoulder, because Vesvigir
could not lead you wrong...
YOU ARE READING
Once, We Lived | Poetry Collection Completed
PoetryA collection of poetry from the high-school years of an semi-angsty teen with too much time on her hands. This is an exploration of the different facets of life and the perceptions of a teen of the 2010s with a knack for words. Warning: contains con...
