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i ought to mark our time with seasons;

winter, when it was new; fresh; pure,
like the powdery snow that settled around us,
as we sat on your front steps.
your eyes were my north star.

spring, when we were reborn.
when you taught me to dance
in the middle of the mall.
when we were small and unsteady still.
testing our our wings
and jumping in, eyes closed,
and hands clasped tight against our sides.
your smile was my compass.

summer, when you held me close,
and we were comfortable with what we were.
when our hearts were as full as the tress of our park.
your fingers slipped up my shirt,
trailing against
the small of my sweaty back.
and i didn’t stop you.
the summer breeze carried
promises of immortality,
and your heartbeat was my favorite song

fall, when cracks started to appear in our foundation.
when the leaves started to fall,
and so did you,
from the pedestal i put you on.
when the promise of eternity was broken
by a man who didn’t know how to lie.
your voice was my undoing.

and winter again, when i saw you
in the park, beneath our tree,
your nose in a book and the scarf i made you
wrapped around your neck.
when i froze (no pun intended)
and stared,
and you looked up hesitantly.
when we smiled at each other,
across a park full of people
and a year of memories.
when we said goodbye.
and you were my best mistake.

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