Funereal

cold

I know there are records of our existence,
but did we really exist if you and I deny it?
If we delete the messages and call logs,
will our friends wipe their memories,
our memories?

Will my hands become cold again?
Will your hands be something they omit?
If we walk alone in the cold,
will our breaths vapourize the same way,
the way they did before,
or will we finally become our own people?

You said you loved the cold because your body got too warm too fast.
I think it's funny your body contains a heart that got too cold too fast.
Have you noticed that I tremble even in the heat,
or have you gotten used to me shivering?

I started drawing on the walls you built to keep me out,
and they began to look so beautiful that I couldn't help but wish I could fix the other side.
I never could get to the other side.

I realized you loved the cold because it stopped you from ever feeling like a flame again,
unpredictable,
fragile,
ready to burn out or be blown out,
destroyed by either your hands or mine.