I’ve been cold since December
The trees groan and ache in the wind, just like these old bones
Passed down from mother to mother
Until they finally reached me
Do these bones hold art?
Do they hold forgotten names?
What storms have beheld these stories?
Why do they grow cold at the growing shadows?

My home has been cold since December
Winter weather penetrates the walls, chilling
These
Old
Bones
Where has this cold come from?
Why does it seek me to embrace it?
But most importantly
If I do embrace it, what will happen to me then?

My soul’s been cold since December
It knows that it was the month I was born in
It knows I shouldn’t have lasted this long
It knows these old bones are ready to collapse
Why have they waited this long?
Who are they waiting for?
Who is going to come to collect me?
Why have I been born if only to die?

My heart’s been cold since December
No, since before that
Not even the summer sun can thaw loneliness
I have frostbite in my chest
What would happen if I just took it out?
Could anyone dare to love me then?
I’m not asking for much; just asking for a friend
Perhaps if I take out my heart, then my wounds may finally heal

My life’s been cold since forever
To say it hasn’t been that way for a long time would be to lie
It’s not just the winter sun that lacks heat
I have nothing left to live for
Where would I be if I was worth anything to those around me?
Where would I go if everything I touched didn’t wither and die before me?
Who would love me if I could be loved?
Who could love
These old bones?