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Description
I wake up to the sound of your nails tapping on the frozen ground - a faded winter deja vu passes before me, but I ignore it. I refuse any trace of what has been before you. He was before you, and now he is disappeared, and he is nothing. Nothing at all. How can he be anything, when you are everything?

It's not snowing. It stopped hours ago. That's why we came out in the first place, I think (when in comes down to it, the reasons for our actions don't really matter). The sun dips low into the sky, casting long shadows and cold chills. I retreat closer into your arms, thinking - no, knowing - that your warmth will protect me. I'm bundled tight, lost in our combination of flesh and thick fabrics, and everything is still, save for your restless hands.

The song of a bird echoes shrilly from somewhere above us. I wince and clap my hands, and soon the whistle is replaced by the rustle of wings. I feel your smile in the air - I know that you are suddenly aware of our solitude, and my need to defend it. You put your hand in mine, and everything goes completely still.

Hours pass, or maybe they're just seconds, and I watch your breath mix with mine to become the air surrounding us (it's these few rare moments, where you allow me to see anything that comes from inside of you, that I cherish). We have built ourselves into this perfect, silent world, and I don't know why.

But when it comes down to it, the reasons for our actions don't really matter. It's only the actions that weigh against the consequences, the consequences that counterbalance our actions. Intent can't enter into the equation, because intent is the constant, and the other two are spontaneous. This is the code in which I lead my life, because this is the only way that justifies your allowance in my life.

And without you, I would not have anything, because you are everything.

A faded winter deja vu passes before me, but I choose to ignore it. With this steady silence as a way of life, it's easier said than done.

Description
I wake up to the sound of your nails tapping on the frozen ground - a faded winter deja vu passes before me, but I ignore it. I refuse any trace of what has been before you. He was before you, and now he is disappeared, and he is nothing. Nothing at all. How can he be anything, when you are everything?

It's not snowing. It stopped hours ago. That's why we came out in the first place, I think (when in comes down to it, the reasons for our actions don't really matter). The sun dips low into the sky, casting long shadows and cold chills. I retreat closer into your arms, thinking - no, knowing - that your warmth will protect me. I'm bundled tight, lost in our combination of flesh and thick fabrics, and everything is still, save for your restless hands.

The song of a bird echoes shrilly from somewhere above us. I wince and clap my hands, and soon the whistle is replaced by the rustle of wings. I feel your smile in the air - I know that you are suddenly aware of our solitude, and my need to defend it. You put your hand in mine, and everything goes completely still.

Hours pass, or maybe they're just seconds, and I watch your breath mix with mine to become the air surrounding us (it's these few rare moments, where you allow me to see anything that comes from inside of you, that I cherish). We have built ourselves into this perfect, silent world, and I don't know why.

But when it comes down to it, the reasons for our actions don't really matter. It's only the actions that weigh against the consequences, the consequences that counterbalance our actions. Intent can't enter into the equation, because intent is the constant, and the other two are spontaneous. This is the code in which I lead my life, because this is the only way that justifies your allowance in my life.

And without you, I would not have anything, because you are everything.

A faded winter deja vu passes before me, but I choose to ignore it. With this steady silence as a way of life, it's easier said than done.