In a world where they are supposed to be warm, why are these words cold?
Is it because I said I love the winter, those thoughts are old
Every time I see someone walking by, I freeze and fold Is it right to expect someone's sweet nothings, or am I too bold?
Haven't some reputed souls said they find peace in thinking of it?
Then why must we yearn and cry, burn and die when the thoughts hit
Is it because others will have it forever and I'll dream of us in bits
Should I find a new hobby, new instincts or remain relied on the sweet nothings?
-Pranathi
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