winter.

it’s back, that time of the year-
there’s something so empty about December
with a ruthless cold that makes me yearn warmth and
then there’s all these overdue assignments
I've been listening to the music on your Spotify wrapped-
it sounds like you.

winter makes me want to return home
but I don’t know where that is or where to go
I often find myself at your doorstep,
most times not knowing how I even got here
but you let me in
your kindness- a bowl of warm noodle soup against
this chilling breeze and I find myself falling
like these little snowflakes we watch through your window.

my heart’s been raising warning signs
everytime I look right into your eyes
and I'm starting to enjoy the rosy tint, although
I hope you'll never know the effect you have on me
your voice is sunlight against the morning mist
seeping right into my skin,
and in your presence, I’m simply a slobbering mess
my words and arms know not where to go
it aches to have you here, this close.

this is my favourite place in hell
I’m always yearning for the things I cannot get;
I want to interlace my fingers with yours and run my
hands through your hair, I want to
catch every wisp of air you exhale
and tuck them all under my chest
it's that time of the year and I’m dreaming again
it’s that time of the year and I cannot tell
if this bittersweet ache is you
or my icy loneliness