My breath clouds in front of me,
the cold invades my sweater.
But despite the cold that is conquering,
I can feel myself warming,
the ice of my apathy breaking,
my hopes melting.
Frozen hopes and bait and switch,
men toying me for their egos,
It’s not like they told me so.)
Spring is coming.
But am I blooming?
Pollination is intimidating.
Will you melt me,
or will I continue to be a lovely frozen statue,
no heart, no poetry, no feelings.