Don't ask me why but it's the cold nights that make me think of you. Not just any kind of cold night either; the type of cold night that makes your skin tense up and feel too tight, the kind of night that makes your eyes water, the frozen tears clinging to your lashes. It's also the way the cold creeps up into your nose, freezing it, making it painful to breathe, diving into your lungs, freeing you and suffocating you at the same time.

Maybe it's like this because I met you when it was cold ... you also left when it was cold. It was cold and there was snow on the ground - pure, pure snow, so unlike me and you that it made me want to cry - and the stars were cold, hard, distant, like how your eyes had become. They used to smile, your eyes. I don't remember when they changed but they did; I'm sorry that it was probably my fault.

Perhaps I'm reminded of you on cold nights because they made me feel the way you made me feel. Next to you, I was as beautiful as any star ... but also as looked over as the ground you walked on. You held me like the warmth of my coat did, protecting me from the cold winds that attacked ... you made my skin crawl like the chilling air that sunk into my flesh and never really leaves you - your bones feel that kind of cold forever. You made me feel like I could fly; crystal clear on the wings of the nights that are engrained in your memory forever, the kind of nights that never, ever end. You also dragged me down, wrapping around my throat like the scarves that mother tied too tight, making me gasp from breath that I wanted -needed- that you never thought was necessary for me; you were my air, you and your long desperate fingers that would leave bruises on my skin and made me feel necessary for you to live.

You're like a December night - unattainable, unforgettable and gone.

The Last Letter 2012.