Cold Cry (from the draft box II)

"I think and think and think, I‘ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it."
— Jonathan Safran Foer

The blizzard freezes your scarf, bonnet and heart.
Your thighs burn, your mind is numbed; it'll last.

Thinking means setting your neck and back on fire,
thinking aggravates that feeling in your gut, dire.

You put your glasses on hoping you'll see better.
Short-lived tears die in the corner of your mouth.

Tap your foot impatiently, words are dead in your throat.
Get the courage to write what you feel; tell her.

Tell her that your silence is out of fear, not disrespect.
Mention to her that it's cold outside; that it's cold inside.

You cry and swallow your pain. You say that it'll be okay.
You know that it'll be. But it still hurts, it still does.

You cry and you drain. You know that you love her.
You cry and you drain. You cry and swallow your pain.