Sand ghost

Blind shimmering of snow at the window, The damp apartment wind Makes me wrap myself in memory, and her. Soaked with the stale scent of citrus. I often open the windows, Because the world is closed. I greedily inhale the cold, But even in it, you remain. I exhale black ash and See in it my usual self. My gaze sparks, my smile curves into an arc. Your thoughtfulness, it seems, will not fade either. The more I see gold on green, The more I rejoice in hating all your glances. With a creaking soul, I'll say, yes, I truly don't remember. I made that mistake and Turned the number to ash. But for some reason, I diligently don't get angry. It will be so pleasant for me to watch your fall... And why is my heart so warm. That by your grace, I'm not rolling into lava.