Blocked.
Blocking the hope of a text message.
A chance to even get in my head more.
Closed.
Closing the sheets in my room so I don’t get a  glimpse of you.
Down.
Keeping my head down as I walk into the room.
So that my eyes don’t “ironically” find you.
Cold.
The chills I get when I walk past you.
Lies.
The foundation of our “relationship”.

There is the anger, the fear, the bitterness that sprouts ironically
From the heart of care—
If only the heart can be cold; if only it can survive to be:
As cold as care can be.

The fire
That was lit
On our first
Hi and Hello
Had been
Extinguished
With our last
I love you.

-qyf