Cold

I sit on the swing,
Wonder what it is that you want to say.
Why you called me so late,
And drew me from my bed into the cold night.

You avoid my gaze and remain silent.
I encourage you to speak up.
But nothing could have prepared me,
For what you were about to say.

You know of the three little words that can change everything?
Well these weren’t quite the same.
The words “I hate you” rang about my head.
How could you say that?

“Insignificant whore, I never liked you at all!”
Your words echo throughout the night.
But what hurt the most was when you said,
“I wouldn’t care if you were dead.”

With that you walked off.
Leaving me crumbling to pieces.
It hurt me so much.
You were my one true friend.

As you spoke your voice was so uncaring,
So cold,
And I wonder why you said such things.

Were you stringing me along?
Or perhaps there was a misunderstanding.
I don’t know how you could be so damn cold,
When you were usually so happy.

My hands and feet grow numb,
But I do not move.
For when you left,
My hope left too.

I sit here in the park.
And the snow begins to fall.
AS my tears run down my face,
They freeze in the frosty air.

When you wake up tomorrow,
I’ll be but a hunk of ice.
My sadness preserved forever,
All thanks to the cold.

To the cold of the night,
And to the cold of your heart.
But will you live up to what you said,
Will you not care?

One of my late night writings. AKA my LNW's