The spark was gone, love felt like rubber
We share the December-cold feeling with each other
If I run out of ink, please tickle my heart with the feather
And with the tip, poke my curiosity and passion
Because I'm slow now due to grown-up friction
And being idle feels like a growing addiction
The comfort I feel is my demise; creative destruction
Maybe it was my extramarital affair with distraction
But trust me, it was the heat that kept us together
Entwined thoughts and rhyming so clever
The cold was gone, love felt like warm summer
