Sun-kissed ballerinas took turns dancing
with the red-brown foliage of the trees.
They fluttered their arms like birds in flight,
dusting the forest below with white and gray.
Blankets in monochromatic shades twisted
themselves between the trunks. With might.
sunsets and sunrises came and went: majestic,
beautiful, romantic with each season, and now
it is winter again. The gold of morning hints at light;
Never truly day, never truly night.

Her head was tilted back, in a vulnerable pose,
waiting for the cold fist of melancholy to come
uninvited, and knock at her door. Love was a riddle
branded to her lips as she sighed his name
one more time, for old time’s sake. She swore and cursed,
as the snow fell outside and her tears, pale and white,
remained. She just wanted to remember how she
hasn’t been able to forget, and forget that she still
remembers. His memory spilled from her lips–spite,
This whispering place between dark and light.

She thought the she could control the sentiments
but they snaked their way to the surface.
A rosary of emotions tumbled forth
from ones time dulled to ones vivid – bright.
One more time her fingers travel paths familiar
only to her subconscious eye,
paths his fingers once gently traveled
across her soft yielding skin.
Experiencing again all his colors with an audible sigh
Living a dream, wishing on a star in the sky.

And not for the last time she’ll wonder what if,
what if all had worked out as once dreamed.
Try as she might, she can’t push them away.
Bead by aching bead all their moments
now only alive in her memories,
pulled so deep to a point even she can’t deny.
She does what she has to; to get past this need,
to return to the more controllable feelings of gray.
Relinquishing the hurt she’s trying so hard to let die,
Surviving this pain, refusing to break down and cry.