Winter is coming and I'm panicked.
I'm scared of the nostalgia it might bring
when I see the first snowflakes fall
for the first time without you.

You're warm and cozy, probably,
enjoying it all too well.
And I know the only way I'll survive this winter
is to have a heart colder than the air around my cloudy breath,
and the shoulder of you - a stranger -
someone I once knew like the back of my hand.
I'll pretend when I close my eyes
it's not you I'm seeing.

The temperature is dropping, and the leaves are dying
one by one.
I'm hiding away my feelings,
burying them until spring.
But maybe by then, they will have slept beside you too long.
They'll be dead, and kept by you,
Irretrievable - too far gone.

I'm not grieving just for you, anymore.
I'm grieving for myself,
and the cold-hearted ***** I have come to be.