the static in my head
has reached a deafening crescendo
like flowers in winter
my bones are wilting
curling tighter into me until
there is only a cold shell
all the life drained away
you were my spring and I bloomed
at your touch
bent toward you as if you were my sun
but the clouds
(a.k.a. my own stupid flaws)
have blotted you out
(pushed you away)
and so I sit alone
freezing to death
in my own personal
perpetual winter