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Hand me your simplest emotion, I’de kiss it on the chest
and hold onto it like a rosary that lost its religion
the hollowed caves you mined in my skull have turned cold
in the bitter frost of absence, there are no diamonds here.
you took my only coals, and now I’m knitting back together
these loose strands of mortified devotion, I’de allow
these knots to overcome themselves, if only I could give up
on the sun to greet the winter, but I’ve never known a bed that
didn’t once turn warm on the other side and I’ll never know
if perhaps, you’ll return for the spring.