I wash my hair for the first time since you left
The traces of your cologne are erased permanently
The last love bite you left is fading away
The first snow has fallen and you weren’t there
I stand at the bus stop you walked me to on our first date
The air was warm when we met
Now I stand in the same spot as the snow pierces my skin with no lover to hold
I stare blankly at my phone
Waiting for your call
I know nothing will come
I know my words were too strong
My feelings too much
I long so much to be the poem and not the poet