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The silence is too much. All i hear is the breeze, my breath and heartbeat.

The leaves, golden, fallen dappled in snow. I walk slow, hiking the backside of the mountain while the heart freezes. Life is pain. The most we can hope for is Love, though it sears with the delicacy of a blowtorch. But if we truly love and let go, put the heart directly into the flame, ah, finally-release. Sweet melon and salted meat go well with a broken heart. Friendship sometimes lasts. Sometimes it doesn't. A picnic, when the wine is gone and the one you love leaves you for one you called a friend.