the blankets we wrap ourselves in.

I am a thousand tearful apologies
rolled up in a carpetful of lust
and tossed into a dumpster,
nobody saw us, let's get out of here.

you are blind anger and irrationality
a temper tantrum in a space station
weightless and frustrated, without voyuers
insisting you are the victim.

if your goal is to move to the Arctic
it's easiest to pretend cold is the only temperature
that warm never existed at all,
and that summer was your worst experience ever
tell everyone you know how much you hated sunlight
none of those are true,
but it will make the ice that much more appealing
it will close all doors but one
it will make your self-imposed choice so much easier

you'll never sweat again
never feel the touch of water against your skin
never smell those blossoming colors
no more birds chirping in your ears
but at least you'll be submerged in solitude
protected
because that's what's important
I guess

we have pictures of your giant smiles in the sun
memories of your best Augusts ever
you're only lying
to yourself