Falling fast, the snowflake crumbles.
Slipping, sliding as it stumbles.
Knee deep, I chase after you.
Your footsteps imprinted
are too large
You turn to notice
And now I’m on your shoulders.
The footsteps look smaller
from so high up
farther away
and soon gone forever
To reach, to dream, to slip, to break
To stumble, get up again, and take
a step back from reality
Lump in your throat.
Hung dry.
It’s okay to cry.
White turns to black and I’m lost again
Weak kneed, chasing after you
But where?
Black clothes, black sags, black umbrellas.
Black skies, black knuckles, black coffin
White turns to black
Black turns to grey
And soon color begins
to fade back into view
A little less than what you were
And very far from perfect
Always chasing
the thought of you
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