Cold

The cold
makes you withdraw
into yourself
wishing for warmth
and sun.

But the sun
has gone away
don't know when
it will be back
to stay.

I miss it.
Heightened anxiety
darker moods
uncomfortable
inside your skin.

Freezing wind
as icy as
your stare
when you look at me,
but I look away.

Don't want to see
the truth,
don't want to admit
that you're gone
and you're never coming back.

Want to know why
but don't want to ask,
what's the point.
So I stand in the cold,
waiting for the sun's return.