meet you again

I always believed if I’d ever find you again, it’d be on a breezy Spring day. Not so hot that your skin can’t touch the concrete, but hot enough for everyone to be running around in little to nothing. That is how we always met. With nothing.

Nothing to our names. Nothing on our skin. Nothing to keep us going. Other than the fact that when Spring comes around, and everyone else suddenly heals. We will stay here. Frozen. Frozen in fear. Fear of growing up. Fear of changing. Fear of not changing. Frozen in our own depressions we believed were rooted in us since birth.

We can stay the same. Meet again every Spring, swimming in our own self made misery.

Now it is Winter, and despite the dark evenings and cold seeping into my bones. I don’t feel it. The cold. The freezing urge, forcing me still.