When I think about it, I start to wonder, if they really existed.

When I look around me, I start to wonder, if any of this is related to me.

When the blossoms sway in the wind, they start to wander, and scatter around like snow.

But when I touch a petal, it stays unmelting, then I really know that it exists.

Then it falls from my touch, stamped beneath their feet, whilst their eyes glisten lovingly at the petals above them.

Yet my eyes couldn't glisten, only left in pitch black, like oil and water, my life and theirs couldn't entwine.

Because I'm a bare tree, a tree unloved, unwatched, uncared, without a single blossom on my branches, or a leaf to catch the sun, I wither here, dying.

But then you told me, that in winter, even those trees stayed bare, that I could bloom too, when spring comes, yet here, only snow remained, layering around my roots, disappearing when touched by warmth. I'm nourished by this kind of melting snow, to where its existence is unfounded, as eventually nothing remains.

I've been here too long, the spring sun, will only burn me, Such a bright flame only blinds me.

But then I saw your smile and said, that my ground was so bright that it's blinding.

I looked down, the cold snow, spread to the horizon, was more blinding that the unending sky, before I knew it, I was surrounded in white, untouched, so pure, truly, more than the sun I yearned for, it was shining. Yet I am here, living amongst this purity, this empty white world, if I bloom, I'll definitely stain it, with useless petals that all forgets, so it's better, if I stay here unmoved, beneath the clouds, amongst the White.

I'm just a stain, in this perfect world of white, yet when you came, you said, this me who is a dead tree, was breathtakingly beautiful, this withering me.

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I won't bloom, I won't blossom, because I want to protect this perfect world of white, even if not for eternity, so that the snow that can even cover the horizon, will stay so beautiful that people won't tread on.

Yet when you came, you left a mark, a long line, separating this world in 2, but when I looked at the split that eventually led to me, right beneath my hollowing trunk.

This world with a mark, seemed less empty, so for the first time, I prayed, I prayed for this mark to stay, this mark that split the world into two, and I who is in between it.

But I cannot exist forever, as I'm already withering, and soon, nothing will be in between these two perfect worlds.

Even so, the mark disappeared before I did, layered upon by more snow, and the world was one again. So empty and beautiful, that I wished I could shed tears, praying that I won't forget that moment when the mark was made and remained.

And you came, once again, and made another mark that began with the horizon and ended with me, you placed your hands together and prayed, for what? I don't know. Then you said, you wished to remember this magnificent scenery, then snapped my bare branch and left.

Me, a withering tree, how could I possibly let you remember this beautiful world of white?

But even so, I felt somewhat happy, that this unblossoming me will be remembered, as if a bud appeared in my hollow trunk.

So that I won't forget you either, so that I wont ruin what you left for me, before your mark disappears, I will leave my bud unblooming, together with me, so your mark will be the last thing remained in my world.

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author note: I made some words up, but please don't kill me.

and thank you for reading!