it’s -2 degrees.
the sun can’t warm the chill.
overhead, the clouds
blotch daydreams paler.
all im thinking is
it’s been 2 years.
sighing on the glass makes
condensation collect.
like a river,
hold my mouth to the runoff.
i can’t run from grief in the cold sunshine.
but i’ll never let a loss leave me thirsty
for more.