The morning can be cold but there are different kinds of cold. The physical cold and the psychological. I could wake up to you in the twelve degree morning yet experience this warm, fuzzy feeling envelope me with your arms wrapped around me. I do desire those mornings but I've got to get detached from them. The kind of cold mornings I should get used to are those that feel cold on the outside and on the inside, and even those that feels warm on the outside yet still cold in the inside. Those empty, hollow mornings I must get acquainted with, presto & quick.
Sometimes your unavailbility makes me despondent. Patience is not part of my virtue. Sometimes I can't wait to voice it out. Holding it in is now too much for me for I have too much to absorb. I crumble faster than a cookie can. I drown like a punctured float. Yet having you and not being able to have you puts me in a tough dilemma. I can't be angry with you, and even if I've got you, I rather freeze to death and let my heart shudder, than to ever burden you with my unhappiness. Neither way works.
so I should leave. Your happiness lies elsewhere. Not with me.
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