The chilly air lingers on my fingertips
But out here its not cold at all.
My eyes are tired- aren’t they always?-
And the outgoing mail just sits here.
This voice is enough to sing me to sleep.
I held on for so long- and yet
Its taken so long for my hands to come clean-
They tell tales, I was caught
With my hands covered in jelly.
The twin flames bounce back and forth
and my eyelids stick- and oh I am frustrated!-
these words won’t come.
But it can all be mended, it can!
I just need some time and scissors and thread.
(and a needle would be nice too.)