Cold.

The wind.

It felt cold.

I just stood there.

I just stood there, cold.

It was like warmth died.

Extinguished like a candle, a lightbulb.

Gone from the world – dead, extingished, gone.

And I just stood there in the cold.

The cold, the icy absence of warmth gripping me.

Whistling through the place where my heart used to be.

Where the feelings used to go, the warmth used to fit.

The warmth, which burned inside of me and shone through my eyes.

Now it’s dead and my heart is a hole the wind whistles through.

I stand rooted, feeling nothing but the cold filling up hollow spaces inside me.

The warmth is a memory, lost, extinguished, gone, and I will never know it again.