A revolution is near, but it always has been, hasn't it dear? They say we can do anything, but then why can't I melt through the walls of ice you've built up? The windows of my little house are frosting, and I'm exhaling puffs of cold air. I don't feel safe here; I don't feel warm. What happened to the heat from your fingers and your smile? What happened to the comfort we created in each other? What happened to everything I held dear? Maybe it's me. Or maybe it's denial.
No comments:
Post a Comment