Roses soft like my lips were
when the skies smelled like the rain
And the CDs played in your room
and your body was above my head
like the colorful umbrellas
behind closed doors
The shining winter is where my heart fluttered
It flew and the streams were full of smiling fish
Now there is pitch dark in winter and we squeeze each others’ hands like the succulents scorching for their monthly thirst for a merciless and “hazy strange winter”