like winter
they extend their hand, a greeting
like cold, unfamiliar branches
they cover themselves in layers
that take true friends to peel off
and bring beauty
like spring
they blossom as a form of affection, attention
they appreciate the beauty that found them
and the coldness they once had
slowly warms up
like summer
countless days, weeks spent together
they bring a warmth you can’t help but cherish
“summer is my favorite season”
their layers, shed to the last,
a true expression of themselves
eventually
like autumn
as if a chill, their blossoms and leaves, peel off
they no longer bloom like they used to
you yearn for the earlier months of the year
you can’t help but wonder why they are
like winter
they are cold, can’t warm up like they used to
no matter how hard you try to rekindle
their layers are back on, who even are they?
the bud you brought to bloom
has terribly severed