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It’s been snowing again,
that familiar sting,
when our lips fray like string.
At least the city looks clean,
but this quilt, nature made
dissipates to display
all the sins that we prayed
would never see the surface.

Once something dies
you cannot bring it back with lust, back to life.
So I keep our love locked in these words,
bound by lies, mistrust and the underestimation of denial.

The frozen sun lays so low,
its just a cigarette glow.
Slowly burns the skies pink.
Its too ice glazed to sink,
but I do anyway, in some drunk masquerade.
All my friends whisper sshhh, leave him he’ll be ok.

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