The Barren Winter Of My Heart

I remember the first day I met you.

September 8.

Breezy. Too cold for the sweater I was wearing, but too warm for the jacket I’d dug out of storage.

When I held you in my arms for the first time, I knew a relief I hadn’t known in who knows how long. Weeks? Months?

We held off our love. We waited until the moment was right to indulge in our delight.

But then you were gone. Your delight no longer graced my eyes, hidden away from me. I tried again and again to go back to the well of our first meeting, but it was in vain.

I waited for you.

The long nights stretched into weeks. The lonely weeks stretched into a month. Two months. How often I’ve rushed to the door, hoping to find you there framed by the elements, begging to come inside.

But, alas. Hope eludes me.

As I blink my weary eyes into the harsh, snow-bitten light of another morning, I shriek my plea into the indifferent abyss:

.

.

.

“Where the fuck is Issue #2 of SUNEATER from former Disney star Dylan Sprouse and comic distributor Heavy Metal Magazine?”