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Poem

Raindrops upon the asphalt
Stain my camera lens as it stares at the moon
I lack a jacket and the wind is strong
Would it be cool if I was ice all along?

Reading the twist of the story
Before you have context to know why it's there
I'm thinking I knew how this story would end
Yet subtly praying for worldlines to bend

Buried miles inside you
You're grasping the bedsheets while I'm holding flasks
Whispering words of love to me after
Though when I'm drunk, I'm a better actor

Frozen, dreaming of cold winds
And days when I hid myself from the sheer cold
Dreaming of moments when my love was pure
And realizing theater has lost its allure

I can't remember the last time
I've gazed upon you without wanting to die
Yet I can't run because you'll try to fall
And grasp my hand to pull me into the squall

Raindrops are soaking my camera
And your questions are making my phone sing aloud
Hypothermia doesn't sound half bad
God, I'm sounding so much like my dad

What a wonderful parody
Of the intimacy we've both craved since we were young
Battles and doubts and all sorts of great things
You're still the reason my heart wants to sing

Singing the songs of the wounded
Of pain and of self-harm, of suicidal dreams
I'm freezing to death on this track in the rain
I've never been happier than when I'm being slain

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