Winter is still here. The park is frozen.
You're wrapped up in an old green sweater that smells like home. Your nose is runny. Your eyes are tired, your hair clumsy.
We've been sitting quietly all evening, the air between us heavy with distance. It feels like we have weighed it down with all the words that could ever be spoken between two people. It feels like we could go another hundred years without talking.
But then you turn to look at me.
Those beautiful big eyes blink into mine.
Before thought can spark into language and ruin everything, before the cold can clamp its claws around our hearts, before time can ply its trade and memory can trap us with its tyranny, our souls understand the simple truth in our eyes.
A smile seeks its way out, feeble like the sunshine. On your face and on mine.
And the walls crumble. Just like that.
I want to reach out, hold your hand in my hand, ask you how you are, where you've been hiding from me all this while. I want to tuck the stray strands of hair falling on your forehead behind your ear, tell you how beautiful you look even though I know you'll snort in disbelief. I want to tell you that I'm sorry, that I've been an idiot, that I didn't know what I was doing and all the usual lies men tell women.
But all that can wait.
I want to erase every memory, wind the clock back to the beginning of time. I want to take every word I have said and throw it back into the well of silence where it belongs. I want to hold you in my arms and never ever let you go; no, not even if you want to go sleep.
But all that can wait.
For now, all I want to do is gaze back into your eyes, smile till you start squirming despite all these years, till you start laughing and ask me to not look at you that way, till you look down and away, shy all of a sudden.
For now, all I want is this tiny piece of heaven to last forever.
Even spring can wait.
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