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I cannot

Emily Khym '23

We drifted towards the dewy sunrise

merging into our shadows.


you said, soothing my curls through your blistered hands.

I went into the snowy bliss I called home, dragging you by your pinky,

a promise to let go, never let go.

I got lost into your ocean blue eyes as the soft rush

of warming chestnuts embraced our figures.

You handed me white roses.

I crumbled them up.

You embroidered your fingers through mine.

I stood silently.

The snow jetéd across our numb tongues—cold, heartless,



you said again. The train is coming.

Light chugs swept across the field.

We delved into each other's presence, so fragile, so fractured.

White rose petals wept into our embrace, a final attempt of goodbye.

The chugs tramped our ears.


you whispered.

And so I went.

I went to a place empty of home,

a loneliness draped in white roses.


I remembered through my seeping heart.

The snow tickled my skin, my heart beat erratically to the cruel tune of the wind.


I took a deep breath. Snowflakes rested across my wounds.

I went,

went to be a ghost in your crumbling walls to hang white roses until you tell me,


Image (7).jpeg

Art by Nessa Tang '24

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