On days like this, I am reminded of a feeling once foreign to me
A concept I’d only caught from books and from movies.
One that crushes yet contains no mass
That cripples heart and brain alike yet bears no blade.

It is the bitter, biting brutality of winter with no fire nearby to curl up to
Nipping at the heart and leaving it crisp with melancholy.
It is a plague which I seem to have regretfully caught
Despite having recently become so very aware of how to use its cure.

The girl across the hall opens her door and produces a weary, sigh with her exit
Perhaps a plea for an ear to listen or another to exist with.
She passes by my open doorway silently, contradicting herself
Our pleas for a social volley cast together into the blizzard.

I imagine she feels that same apprehension; hesitation
Or perhaps she had something to do.
The simple smile of another among the thousands here
Would be an ember of joy sufficient to set my hearth alight for days.

I crave that warmth like few things I have craved before
So close by, yet more scarce than it’s ever been.
Chatter was once my sun, and I basking endlessly below
How I yearn for summer in this raging storm.