The ground so frozen can’t be soil
for more than burying cold hearts,
the ones of cruelest birds,
the magpies that we saw, that ate their own.
The cries of birds in blacks and whites
in nights where I can’t find you in my bed
under our covers, with those red roses on them,
those you liked, make me shiver.
You are outside now. I wait for Winter to move on.
Maybe I’ll find you under layers of snow.
This frozen land though will be melting soon,
and death will go.
I’ve touched your face before you went, I kissed your hand.
You have been dead to me before. Your breath came back
like smoke. It will come back again.
So much I have achieved. So much more than you know.
The frost is coming to its end.