(Not) A Special Snowflake

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You never were a special snowflake. Special, yes, but your smiles are too warm and your hugs too comforting for you to be likened to the snow. You are more like a breath of fresh air, gently caressing my face with your little laughs and our inside jokes. Never cold but for when you are not around, you are the sun that makes my morning.

Cold was when you turned away. Cold began when you stopped smiling. Frozen was when my heart ran out of its supply of your sleepy face when you just woke up and the voice that cracked when you sing songs that were too high. Frozen was when I ran out of my supply of your smirks and witty comebacks.

Frozen is what I am now.

I can't pretend to not know what happened.

There was enough evidence in the news and the papers.

I wish I could just go back to the sunshine and the warmth. But you were gone, and enjoying it without you seemed like such an insult to you, who taught me how to enjoy it.

At the very end, you snatched away the warmth you gave me in the first place.

In the end you really were a special snowflake. You were special, and you were cold at the very end. You melted away with the sun, and froze with the warmth of a thousand unhappening tomorrows.