Days get longer with cold coffee and hearts out of tune
You rise early to greet sunrises, I stay up late to warn them.
Whispers shrouded in static leak through the crack of my door
I buzz like a fly against glass, too busy to be lonely.
When the quiet has infected my mind I begin to tremble
I cement the loose pieces together and dream I’m made of stone.
The air is tight and the rain falls like an executioner's guillotine
Your flames scorch the earth and I wither as I’m dragged behind.
I build a fortress of blankets, comic books, and flower petals
Curled there as I stitch my strength together before 6 am.
