You look at me
and you see cold,
you instinctively tug at the cincture of your jacket
and the collar folds,
as if you could catch the frost from me,
as if you can see by my face what it's like to be me.
Your eyes barely even rate me a mention,
the footpath is taking up the majority of their attention.
Your brain will rapidly delete me,
if my love was a virus, the world would be disease free.