Navy Blue.

This poem isn't the most depressing, but it's not preppy.
To make an analogy, it's not pink, but it's not black. It's more of a navy blue. Heh, that's a good one *changes subject name to Navy Blue*
It doesn't really have a title.
I wrote it when I was literally about to go to sleep (I was in my bed, using a flashlight in the dark). It seems that my brain only really starts working when I'm half asleep. Though the last two lines of the first stanza (is it?) seem like filler.
*drumroll*

As I sat, curled up with a blanket
The fingers of Winter caressed me
they were gentle, yet powerfully strong
I curled tighter, ignoring their protesting

I stayed positioned there
with nothing much to do
so I let my idle mind wander
and it steadily wandered to you

Times of joy and times of sorrow
rushed through my brain together
Knowing that yesterday will be the same as tomorrow
My hope had begun to weather

I looked for you when I was out
though I know you will not be there
And I would've given anything just to see you
Because seeing you anywhere was so rare

You turned your back to me, though
made me more miserable than before
I had looked to your kind face for help
and instead you shut the door

As I still sit, curled up with a blanket
Winter's fingers beckon me to their path
No, I am mistaken, as the scythe appears beside me,
the fingers that beckon are death.

It's interesting.

It seemed kind of forced in places. I loved the first stanza, though! I think it's worded well.