You And Me In Four Seasons

An unfolding love story narrated in the form of the four seasons.
@andrey_rage / 
@andrey_rage / Twenty20.com

My hand is enveloped in yours. I feel like my loose ends are finally coming together as I look to you and you smile at me. Warm butterflies in my stomach, bees are buzzing, flowers are blossoming as our new love is too. Wind coursing through my hair like adrenaline, no end in sight as we gaze upon the winding road ahead of us. The beginning of something new, I say to myself, and allow myself to melt into your embrace. That was spring.

Your radiance is sunny and your gaze at me bright eyed. The sun’s rays are blinding in our new love. Sunglasses on; I see no flaws you possess. You run your fingers through my coarse sandy hair, and waves of endorphins are nibbling at our toes. No hint of the impeding cold season. Infatuation we like to call it. That was summer.

We never thought it would come to this. The leaves are changing from green to a beautiful autumn pigment, and as our love unravels, it seems beautiful in itself. Whirlwinds of fights and cutting words, and your stare at me chilly and dry. That was fall.

The trees are bare, and the empty bed feels icy against my bare skin. I am gloomy as I press my hand against the cold window. I breathe a solemn breath that fogs up the glass and remember when we once drew our initials in the remains. Bed is my comfort, hibernation my solace. It is over, but I miss you. That was winter.

This is a New Year, and I reminisce the tangible love we shared, growing hastily at first but stagnated to a halt. Spring, summer, fall, winter; I no longer feel haunted whenever your name leaves my lips. A blank slate for the next one begins, as it is time for the flowers to blossom again. TC mark

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