a walk in the bitter cold just to feel something. on that walk i just might see something beautiful that will make me feel like i did when you were still here. i may see a woman crying, her jet black peacoat throwing a tantrum in the winter wind. her cheeks as cold as the mans heart who caused her this pain. i may know that she will never love again but it won't make me any more sad than i already am. I'm not sure such sadness exists. i may see you walking up from the subway wearing the same hand-me-down coat you covered me in when my walls were crumbling and i was drinking a ****** cup of coffee that i thought would be my last and when you still cared. the sight of you may light my heart on fire and this bitter cold won't be able to freeze me because I'm sweating beads of passionate sweat from the heat you made me feel inside. or i may not see any of this and just feel the twinge of wind hitting my face, like i did last night, and the countless nights before that. after hours of that far too familiar sting, i'll go home and warm up with artificial heat, nothing compared to yours. i'll climb into an empty bed and i'll awake only one or two hours later with an empty mind and heart. then i'll crawl out of bed on an hour of nightmare filled sleep and purposely burn my tongue with coffee just to start off my day with some sort of feeling instead of terrible desolation. all of it just to feel something. just to keep the wraith of you away.