Frostbitten

the cold moves in. undeterred by our protests. we fumble with all the broken buckles and faulty zippers that leave us exposed. the candy melting. the monsters moaning. as we discard their lingering fictions. 

we're small. like children in their empty beds. the slope looks down on us. all burnt edges and raw innards. 

we press against gravity's conviction. still the bottom always hits. we loiter on hope's doorstep. wondering when it will let us in. 

tomorrow chokes on us. the sinew and the saccharine. of barren hearts and absent gods. 

thieves with nothing left to steal. .