writing letters in georgia

there was a sigh. and a pause.  i was constricted by the cold in my lungs and the longing that weighted my chest, that caused the roots to grow.  the ice groaned and cracked and deftly i slid backwards on the frosted river, arms like branches reaching toward you  but you've turned your back and your body is now blended into the stars and they dissipate with the coming sun.  the cracks grow to chasms in the warm morning light and i sink slowly down, there is nothing to hold on to, there is no one to call home.  i've lost you to those golden rays, and december is nothing but my own, again.  another figure begs to take your place but falters at the edge of the river -- i have gone away. hesitation will do us all in eventually.