Glass

There's cold air on my skin

yet I'm not getting chills.

A penetrating stare,

So I will myself awake.

Sounds die down, then the imagery fades.

It's the simple things at night, only then am I reminded...

Of certain hours, pillow beneath head.

I would lie awake there replaying varied words you'd said.

Do you even have to ask?

So bewildered, I turn fragile, I turn to glass.

That's when I slept most soundly, couldn't rouse me with a stir.

I'd sleep through a deluge, shortly after clouds would clear.

Solace knowing that you're somewhere...near.

With my name upon your lips,

there's a half smile on my face.

Do you even have to ask?

So bewildered, I turn fragile, I turn to glass.

First thing at daybreak, there's a coldness everywhere.

The cold air on my skin

yet I'm not getting chills.