I love the feeling
Of ice cold lips
White rain
Blue fingertips

Looking up as
Flakes of beauty
Caress my eyelashes

I can play guitar in the snow
And sing a song
Me and my dog

Wanderers
Ever so hollow
Just going with the flow

Like the little perfect flakes
Falling to rest
On the ground

And like snowflakes
We melt into nonexistence
Packing up
And following the next storm

There is no rest for the cold
I suppose my soul
Is
*Ice

On the tip of our tongues
Are the words left to say
That formed in our mind
But the wind's carried them away

And as we speak with no purpose
As our words become bland
We find ourselves lost
In our own separate lands

So when the night leaks through
And the humans close their eyes
The words come back to us
Full of lush and tasty spice

We'll scribble them down
On parchment with ink
Letting the letters flow
Letting our thoughts sink

And as our eyes will open
To the brand new day
We'll find that the tip of our tongues
Have nothing worthy to say

We'll flip through the papers
To look for our poetic works
But they've all sunk and drowned
To where lone emotions lurk

And everything we need to say
Everything we have left to say
Will be lost in our swirling thoughts
And the wind will carry them away

So that no one can hear what we are too shameful to think
So that no one will ever feel their heart sink
By our flavorful thoughts

I gave you the match
to burn my paper heart.