Our bones shook and cracked in the cold.
Our bones.
Ours.
Both.

The snow fell hard this year,
and kept falling,
piled up in feet on the roadsides,
covering the grass.

Trees bent and broke,
heavy burdened with snow,
piled up in feet,
and they bowed and broke in the cold.

And our bones shook and broke.
Every time we looked out the window.
Every time we went outside.
Our bones broke.

Twelve winters we've shaken in the cold,
and shaken off the cold,
breaking and being remade,
all splinters and cracks, glued and sewn.

Hours we spent,
one year,
set out, one rainy October,
spent hours in the car.

Claws at each others throats.
Everything we owned in the backseat.
New Mexico made the sky explode,
in colors we had never seen.

We hid from the winter,
one year, in Arizona,
but we came back home,
on New Years Eve, to the cold.

And our bones broke.
You scowled, and I shivered,
and I took the car.
Ours. Both.

And we tumbled to the floor,
and we rolled.
And we ended up in houses
and in hovels. All cold.

No one knows me.
I'm alone, but you have seen me
naked,
stripped to the bone.

I want to take care of you.
Slide up next to me
in the cold.
We can make each other warm.

I can't remember whose is what.
I want to share it all.
Take everything I own.
Take my bones.

I want to take care of you.
I'll cover you with my body.
I will break against the cold,
and keep you warm.

I want a thousand winters.
I want my bones to break,
I want to be beaten
until I moan.

I curse you, and I hate you,
and I love you
with the agony of hope
for us both.

I hope a hopeless hope.
And I'll cry until I float.
I don't know what I don't know.
But I don't want anything without you.

I'm cracking, and I'm cold.
I think I'm growing old,
and I don't want to grow old
without you.

I'll take you to New Mexico
again, and show you skies
that bloom like flowers,
and I'll kiss you with my soul.

I'll hold you in my arms.
I'll be strong enough to carry you
across the threshold
of our home.

Ours.
Both.
I'll sew us up and hold us up.
Together.

I know the winter
is miserable,
but I know the snow
can soak the earth for spring.

And in the spring
our bones can heal and grow.
Ours.
You and me both.

03/31/2018

Posted on 03/31/2018
Copyright © 2024 Ryan Nardi