it gives way to nothing
its molecules frozen in time
reaching out towards each other
covered with mottled, spotted leaves,
amber rust and lifeless
memories of yesterday,
dead in the sigh
of the weary,
wet flutter of air
they are all attached and move as one long sheet of bleakness,
speaking of nothing
but the one, i reach for it and pull it from its cold comfort,
and feel the warmth under the dead veins,
it was alive, secretly, making love to the frozen wasteland it fell to,
the ground sighs a bit, a little puff of discontent
just a slight caress to my flushed cheeks to remind me that i'm only here,
seeing this
feeling it,
because it let me