Riverbreeze

He sat by the river, his thin hoodie kept him warm to some extent, the wind hit his face and his hands, his feet felt cold through his shoes, but he liked it. The cold almost never came around, but when it was here, he would enjoy it all the way down to the last shiver. He felt his body shake, then he would resist, it would shake again, and again he would resist. He liked the cold, something about it made him feel warm inside (ironically). It brought back memories of home, when he would cuddle with his lover, by the fire, keeping each other warm. She is gone now, but the bitter cold would bring him back those warm memories of peace. He's having trouble remembering what exactly it was like, but he knows he misses it. The silly comments, the fresh scent of burning wood, smoke in his face, and his lover, making funny remarks and asking pointless questions. "How did the time pass?" He thought out load to himself, as he lit another cigarette. Now a days the only true love he feels is when he is alone, in his favorite spot, admiring the stars and the reflection of the moon upon the still body of water, cars hissing by. "I'm not worthy of her love... I'm not worthy of anybodies love anymore." He repeated that sentence to himself until it made complete sense.