Your love rains down
                                       from the shower head.

Sharp needles of fire
                                                                ­                  dousing cold feet.

                                   It feels like daggers,

                                               and wouldn't be so,

if I hadn't lingered for so long,
                                                                           in my frigid hesitancy.

Which side of the looking glass
am I even in?

I constructed a piano, out of dead leaves and pine needles

Frail it was, pitiful it looked

But I played it without shame, as most as I could

To create sounds, to my desolate landscape

And for a moment

Break away, the chains of the lonely sin

Fireflies carry a light behind them
They wander at night not knowing where to go
And they are not afraid
Because they know
They are guided by a light
That flies with them
behind their wings

But it's sad too,
Because they will never be able to see it
That shimmering light
That stayed behind them
All through the years.