Cold, as the absence of warmth in my hand. Cold, were the hellos that are missing in our conversations. Cold, like the jarring silence breaking in through the unsaid words. Cold, as the familiar throbbing sensation that never left my feet the day I walked away. Cold, is the smile I coax myself to self-consciously respond to. Cold, I was. Cold, I have been and still am. There has never been one day, one instance that I've gone through without having to think about you did. This sphere of void you've left here in the depths of me. This indelible feeling that overwhelms me every time I hear the word, "broken." The involuntary tears that fall on behalf of the you who should have been there. Those days I got out of bed with a hole in my heart. I've tried so hard. I've cried so hard. Is it still, not enough? You never left.