the season

there's no more small, sloppy flakes falling
outside my window and
it makes me think about how this all happened around spring,
about how time is moving forward with us, won't fall
back. no more cold air caressing the curve of my neck -
just me rubbing warmth up up up

to your fingertips.

nothing could possibly be dull anymore with so much to
daydream about,
'cause my shirt still smells like your bed.

& the difference between my gray winter and this green season is
that before i never wanted to wake up & up & up

to my reality.

but now i hesitate just to
fall asleep, thinking maybe someday i'll have a cup of coffee
and realize you were a figure in my dream, a fragment of my mind.
but for now it's safe to call you mine.
so stay alive,
because i will find you.