I feel the plates of the earth pushing us apart
We grind and we glide but we never let go
I think about you there in the cold winters
On my tiny island
In my inferno
I think about the scruff on your face
The rose in your cheeks
I wonder about your scent
I think about the way your skin must feel
Underneath another's nails
But in truth I know I deserve no claim
My loyalty came with a price
And to be fair
The wound is still raw
Still open
Still waiting
If waiting for the past makes me a fool
Then to hell with wisdom
I won't swallow this
But today is not the day
For resolutions
To be tangled up in a web with someone who won't claim you as their own is to be the frog with the scorpion.