The sun retreats too early, too quickly these days
and the ink wells are running dry.
It's a drought of love and easiness,
we are kept safe and sound
only under our own skin
I collapsed one night in the kitchen.

I try to light a fire but it just turns to ashes
and we have no other way to stay warm
sometimes I turn the music up so I don't have to hear you come home
and I won't shake when I hear your voice.
Take the Christmas tree down.

I think you see me as a decoration
like the lights or a manger scene
beautiful, but I must be silent all the time
the song you turn the radio down on
you see nothing within.

I wear gloves even inside now
I'm careful around you,
like with the star on the top of the tree.
I'm afraid even the gentlest touch
will break you into pieces.

I almost called the cops this morning
to tell them there was a stranger in my house.
They would have called me crazy, and so would have you.
You live here; there are pictures of you on the walls.
But your heart moved on long ago.