I love the winter.
But I dread it as well.
Touching the cold water,
Which will remind me of how cold he was.
The sky, that is forever filled with clouds,
Reminiscent of how my lungs are filled with smoke.
The early mornings,
That make me want to get back to my thefts.
All my memories of the years,
Winter makes me live them.
When you have your past come and kill you
Is it murder or suicide?
I may have wandered a little bit to the dark side. *grins cheekily*. Anyway, do check out poetryhive for the prompts