file_000morning mountain mists
hanging thick in the trees,
sticking closely to the rocks
covered in moss the shade of your eyes.

alone, and at peace –
trying to collect thoughts
that ultimately waiver back to you.

because all I can hear
are the birds in the treetops
screaming your name;
the branches that crack under my weight
softly mourning the loss of you.

the way the air feels thick,
the way my legs burn
and ache and tremble.

reaching the summit,
where I can gaze out upon mountain tops
and reminisce about all the ways you too
leave me breathless,
leave me aching,

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