our spot.

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Ice pricks at my skin;
the cold runs through me slowly.
I dont move away fromn it, instead
i stand there taking it all in.

Our spot. I sigh, defeated.
The color it once had was warm,
now its gray and as cold as the wind blowing across my skin.

When i think of the life that this spot held, all the beautiful purples blues and greens;
i smile through the painful memories.

Inocence has a certain bliss to it.
His childish eyes, a warm choclate brown, seem to show that innocence; though he didnt actually posess it.

I look at my wind burnt hands and almost cry out longing for the warmth of your skin on mine.

When i look up again, in the distance i see a light.
I smile again and the frozen spot becomes what i imagined it looked like.

And there you stand,next to me, a spot youve never really been.





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