Snow

It was long ago and things are different now. And though I still try to find something that can’t be found, I know I’ll eventually be okay. I get angry sometimes. I get myself so down that the only things that pick me up are unhealthy. And the only person that I can blame or count on is myself. There’s not much I can do really. Sometimes I say that things are the way they are because of me. But I can’t control a specific sunrise, or reverse the days so I could repeat my favorites. I wish I could. But I’m finding out now that it all doesn’t matter that much. It may have mattered to her before. But that was long ago and things are different now. And when I’m feeling real lonely here, I think they may matter now. But I’m not a fool. It’s not love or even a friendship. I know that now. It’s nothing that is happy. It’s all sad and as cold as this snowstorm we have had today. It’s a blizzard out there. But then again we are all over judging it. We haven’t had snow for a while. So it’s hard to judge what it’s really like. We were used to feet before, but now we get but a few inches. It still falls though. It’s cold like always, and we can see our breath when we talk to someone outside. Maybe I am fool to think of so many things. Maybe, on the nights like this where everything seems so quiet, where the only sound I can hear is that of a plow truck, and my scribbling hand on a notepad; maybe that’s where I really have dreams and think that someday anything is a possibility. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic that has just given up for one night, which is this night. Maybe I’ve just been too tired and I need a nap like a four year old that played out all day in the snow. I made forts and tried to announce my plans for a building complex made of ice and frozen pee to snowmen I made last week. But tomorrow I’ll remember the lines that I didn’t write here. I’ll question everything over and over again. The pens and pencils will get tired of my depressing lines and I’ll just go take a nap after sipping hot chocolate. And I’ll wake up later now realizing what I really need to write. I’ll get the things off my chest being somewhat afraid someday, someone might read them. And I’ll be bitter but happy. Because it’s so cold right now, but it’s snowing and it’s a beautiful night. I love to be so unknowing. I have no effort left in me. So the towel is in and I’ve given up on things that long ago seem so perfect to us. Yet things are different now as it gets cold here for me. But I’ll look forward to falling in love again, somewhere with someone; we’ll speak unknowingly, simple lines of adoration.