A thought for those colder mornings...

I wake to find the glass is frosty. Shaped by the shadows and former glory of my breath, belched out into the frigid air and pressed against the glass. What words spoken must lie there captured, plainly visible to all, but for none to understand.

I think back over the last few conversations, phone calls and self-musings voiced for no one to hear. The brisk morning has bundled them up and captured them, cooly displaying them like trophies - mocking my insecurities and haunting my mind.

Staring closely, I see letters, words and thoughts begin to take shape- fragments of conversations emerging as if crafted by the breath and finger of one who watches me constantly. One who observes my every move, hears my every thought and then lauds it over me, tauntingly. Yet I am here, alone with my thoughts.

I feel myself steeling my nerve against the morning and this betrayal of my inner self. 

I open the door.

The sharp, cool air enters.

It snaps me awake.

And my thoughts slowly dissipate before my eyes.