Your cold heart is colorless,
a place where no season settles,
where nothing grows,
not even silence.

I speak,
but the words fall flat
against the walls of your
indifference.
They do not echo,
they do not bleed.

Once,I thought I saw warmth there-
a flicker,
a tremble behind your gaze.
But it was only the light
catching on something hard ans hollow.

You carry yourself like absence,
wrapped in frost,
untouched by the hands
that try to reach you.

And still,
I remain,
watching the snow fall inside your chest,
hoping for a thaw
that never comes.