As winter whispers, my heart freezes. Every winter, it got colder and darker, and I never couldn’t get the image of you out of my head. I remembered your back in the dark. You were wearing a thick navy parka.
As winter whispers, the cold freezes my face and I always remember your kiss. The last time, you kissed me on my cheek. If I knew that would be the last time, I would kiss you on your lips and have one last taste of your cherry lip gloss. You didn’t even kiss me right that last time. You breezed through my cheek and told me you had to run.
As winter whispers, the cold wind blows through my hair and I remembered how it used to blow through yours. That day, a strong wind blew the hood off your head. Your blonde hair flew out and they looked sparkling under the street lights. You panickingly struggled to grab your fuzzy thick hood back on your head while crossing the street. The light wasn’t red and you crossed.
As winter whispers, I remembered your blonde hair bursted out covering half of your faced down body on the street. I remembered running towards you and crying till I couldn’t see clearly. I heard lots of noises. I heard sirens but I didn’t hear your voice.
Every time winter comes, they said I have seasonal depression. They don’t know how it feels having your loved one taken away by winter. If it was summer, if only it was summer, none of our tragedy would have happened.
This little prose is a response to a beautiful prompt this week by Go Dog Go’s Cafe.