minus three degrees

The black is minus three degrees.
You could see your breath if it weren't so dark.
Can't feel or see your hands in mine
but I guess my ears are fine,
as I hear you still haven't lost your voice
Tell me again that you love me.
I probably still won't believe you, but
your breath is so warm, and
it's something to hear
better than all the nothing.
It warms my thin fingers like a flashlight
Illuminates the frozen veins inside
They're still red
Even if I can't find a pulse
That's something.

--Caroline