what is what

willow branch earthward,
a brittle leaf crumples.
if the truth starts now,
what about our promises?

pretty little words born
from blood & ice cream--
how come we couldn't see
my fall would be so hard
it shattered everything?

i was born of winter and
you were violent spring.

truth is that, just true
and true is cold as ice,
no molding it with hands
to make it our newborn--

still, don't you wonder?
did you choose correctly
or are you stuck there--
dead leaf in your hands?

i wonder about that too.