My heart is like a photo album
Filled only with pictures
Of you.
A thousand times a day,
I lose myself
Between its pages.
But it doesn't keep me warm.
Not in the way that
You did.
So I freeze over for a while
And hibernate within my
Frosted flesh.
In aimless pursuit
Of nothing in particular,
January chills my bones.
Painted white by the winter,
I wait for spring
To thaw me out.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 7:52 PM UTC
My heart is like a photo album
Filled only with pictures
Of you.
A thousand times a day,
I lose myself
Between its pages.
But it doesn't keep me warm.
Not in the way that
You did.
So I freeze over for a while
And hibernate within my
Frosted flesh.
In aimless pursuit
Of nothing in particular,
January chills my bones.
Painted white by the winter,
I wait for spring
To thaw me out.
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