The Weather is Cold

I have been hesitant to pick up this package. I knew it would liberate me and close a chapter in my life, but I still resisted the act of picking it up. It meant many things, but mostly, it meant the end. I wanted to pick it up on a casual day that would mean nothing to me, but today, on Valentine's Day it came to me. My neighbor named "Cynthia Erickson" (which is very similar to my plain name) got it. It is weird how things work out.

I'm not sad nor am I even the slightest bit upset. I'm just having a very tough week and this was one of those things that caught me off guard.

In honor of this occasion, this end of the end, I will post the poem I wrote. This is the first and last poem I dedicate to him.

[above: josephine investigating the end]

The Final New Year

You told the fable of the heart,

until I believed in the never ending summer,

the lakes that never froze,

the forevers.

The pages changed color

and fell leaf by leaf. You whispered

the fable of leaves that have

a never ending grip.

Now the wind was serious this time,

so your fingers finally slipped.

Surviving winter was never so rough.

I slipped sake between my lips

to keep them from shivering.

You murmured the heat

would never turn up

and I burned all your silly words.