Keeping your hands in your pockets won't keep you warm
in the cold air of a winter night
raging against the warmth of a fire and a place to rest your head
acceptance and satisfaction cracking your lips

The key in a puddle carved like a knife
shattering the icy calm of the little pool
reflecting the thunder clouds above your head
looming like scissors over a barely blooming rosebud

Calamity and discord seems to be your comfort
or are those lies I see glaring in your obtrusive eyes
silence is the last thing you could ever hear
unless it's the cries of a helpless child sighing into the night

Hope never abandoned you
I watched as you burned the unscented candles
the wax waning and the smoke dissapating in contempt
your fingers dancing in the last dip of flame

I watched you disappear into the coming season
observing the ground as you tread
leaving a dull key in that evaporated puddle
the wax molded to your hand and a burn on your palm