To here I escape and reflect upon my thoughts of you.
Here no one knows me,
and here no one tries to unravel the unspoken paradox of my mind.
Staring around in fascination,
I realize that it never fails to amaze me how everything is reminiscent of you.

Today, the light is different upon my approach to sanity;
clearer, almost white, and brighter.
The snowflakes fall, drift slowly to the ground,
and strangely, I see them as others see me;
normal, mundane, the same as all the rest.
My breath is visible in the crisp winter air,
though quickly lost in the foggy, gray sky.
Small bushes cripple beneath the weight of fallen snow,
dead, feeble, and browned in the harsh, freezing climate.
The solid ground is coated with a delicate sheet of white,
muffling my steps and protecting the secrets that I hold.

The many tears I’ve shed while you’ve been gone have multiplied each day.
The rhythm with which they fall, staccato and out of time,
creates music like no other;
the song of my doubtful heart.