New Season

When I write a poem about you, you know it's concrete.
And I haven't written a poem in so long,
not until you came around at least.
There a true loathing in me
because now its become a waiting game.
Time has always slipped away from me
and I don't understand why.
And I knew I should have seen this coming,
you would be like all the rest.
But a broken and hurt heart means pebbles to you,
and pebbles belong in the dirt.
And everything is new and scary now
and the cold bites my fingers to stubs.
All I want you to do is keep me warm at night
especially when I stare in the face of a stranger all day.
Something familiar and fresh...
is that too much to ask for?
But instead I go crazy waiting for some air from you.
And I rack my brain with ways to make
my life better.
But right now I just feel tormented
because I decided to let you in.