It’s like December in your soul.
And here am I,
Searching for the fire
That once burned in your eyes.
But I find only the reflection of my breath
Curling in the cold, damp air.
Like the sunless sky.
Because you’re cold inside.
Why are you so cold inside?
There’s a hollow clinking in your bones
As I’m trying to light a match,
But there’s no oxygen
To catch.
And my fingers,
They can’t grasp
The matchbox
Or the match.
