I am cold.
The icy rain drips from the ends of my hair, so soaked it's black. My lips peel back from my teeth as they chatter, so cold I can see my breath. There are ice crystals in my eyelashes and they melt like dreams when I blink.

I am cold.
I am here outside your window like old times, waiting for you to flip the knob and pull up the thin pane of glass that separates you from me. I am waiting for you to draw me into your arms and kiss me under the covers, your whispers in my ear tickling me teasingly. I am waiting to feel your warmth and stare into your grey eyes like old times and feel your smooth, smooth skin under my hands.

I am cold.
I am here outside the window, staring into your darkened room, and I know you're in there, waiting for me. If only you would come to the window to watch the rain streak the glass, and you'd see me and open the window, and I'd shiver against you. And we would dream together.

I am cold.
My lips are blue and my hands are numb. My hair is stiff with frost. I'm still waiting for you. We'll dream together. Tonight, we'll dream that we can stay with each other forever. Tonight, we'll dream that there are no such things as car wrecks that take away loved ones. Tonight we'll dream that the ones you need most don't just die, don't just senselessly die, leaving you to wait outside their windows for them, waiting, waiting, waiting.

I am cold.
I don't remember sitting down, but I have. I twitch my knee and the ice on my jeans cracks and glitters. I'm sitting in a snowy-icy-mess now, sitting under your window, waiting.

I am cold.
Except I am warm, sitting under your window under a blanket of snow, under the brightest stars I've ever seen. My breath is puffing out slowly, slowly...slowly. I will wait for you. I will be here under your window until you come, until I'm with you, until we can hold each other.

I will be here until we dream together.