The cold wind is unstoppably finding its way through the cracks in the walls of my apartment. Winter is unapologetic and forceful, intent on halting life for a moment. Frozen, unable to continue with evil. Silent and obedient, the way mankind never is. It is not a success, not even for a moment. This season of white changes my city. Changes this city most fundamentally. I hardly recognise the streets, I hardly find resemblance in the people. Only when the cold sets in does the city become impolite, impatient, rude almost to its carers. Leave now, I want peace. I need a moment without you. Then we retreat to our homes where the cold air dances loops around the lamps hanging ornately from the ceiling.
I am shocked at the ambivalence of my heart. Breaking whilst landing on soft ground. Blooming for the love that it seeks to abandon. Breaking for the one that it has its eyes on. Unable to decide to mourn or celebrate. Where do eleven years disappear to? How long must the heart feel like it is betraying a memory? The cold can never get to it, but its own doing creates its demise. Running with excitement towards one whilst crying desperately for the one it is leaving behind. Were it warm, the heart would know better. Know not to want. Know not to ache. Know not to trust the winter days for the wind will stop its beating in a moment.
Softly the streets are covered with snow. All ambitions of love begin and you who want to conquer the frozen paths have to tread very lightly. The melody hums of something hopeful and broken. The beat is almost unheard, soft so as to never disturb the flakes that peacefully lie on one another. Piling up, a blanket for the heart to fall broken and bleeding. What was it that you wanted? My soul? Everything we had ever owned now becomes a distant memory. Your laugh, your hand, your ideas of a future that we never had. Now another wants a part, wants to show a new meaning of love. I need the old to be able to free my heart for the new, mould me into the person I am needed to be.
Never shield your ears from the songs that hurt. They cleanse. Never pretend like you do not need them. Each beautiful melody will turn your heart back to where it should be. Each song will make winter sweeter, the pain from the void of the old lover lesser, the hope for the new much much stronger. With each sad song I know that I could use somebody. Somebody like you.
