chakriya chhim

Winter love.

The strands of hair on the nape of our necks begin to stand on their hind legs. Cold spears of November and frozen arrows from December pierce deep in the skin. Summer has become extinct and we have fallen into Fall just as it is being overthrown.

In this moment is where I found you wandering wearing a heavy sweater torn, stained with ink, and patched as best as one unfamiliar with a needle could patch. We met among the trees as they undressed their branches for Winter, and from there I knew I couldn’t lose you. Your footsteps so light on the brittle leaves shedded, but I took my time to listen carefully to them so that each time I stopped to rest, I could always find you again.

Air was becoming scarce, slowly suffocating our minds, and tasted bitter on our lips. Fingertips go numb in this sort of weather, you know. Still, your kisses were so sweet and breathed oxygen back into my lungs. We pressed our palms together and filled the gaps between our fingers with that of the other’s.

Perfect fit.

At this point we were descending like the degrees in the temperature, into some place foreign but all too familiar. It was a place wonderous and quite lovely. We stayed there and started with a different kind of forever. One that began to grow deep into our souls.

Then time followed us and the flakes of snow turned into puddles and our season was almost ending.

Winter love we called it and I loved every memory of it because they were made in the most bitter of days and bare of nights.

From this I have gathered that the best of things approach us in aimless moments, my dear. Moments in which may last a few seconds or a few lifetimes, but however long it is, the signifacance of those moments outweigh time itself.