Coming Inside From the Rain

Hello, take your boots off, throw back your hood,
Can I make you tea? Let me tell you a story about a boy of ice
And a girl of fire.
She was getting warm and he was ever colder,
She said come inside.
He said no, I'm trudging through the snow, I'm swimming through the frozen rivers of my despair, I'd rather be left alone.
She said, well, I've a house of cards and a heart of gold if you ever happen to come this way again, i mean to say, if you ever grow cold.
She said, I'm aflame.
She said, have a good swim.
He said, okay.
A floorboard was creaking in her house of kings and queens, ash filing through the seams.
After a rainy April, after an August drought,
He happened to come back around.
He happened to come to her door and it happened to start to pour and she said,
Come Inside From the Rain.
But he couldn't remember a life without pain,
So he scraped his feet hard on the welcome mat,
And sat,
On the edge,
Of the chair
And was there
For a hour.
She said, what is your name,
And he said, you wouldn't believe me if i told you.
She said, okay.
Sipping they sat and slipping and that,
That was how it started.
A house of cards and a heart aflame,
It started a visit and ended a game.
It ended a lonely and started a pain.
This wasn't her fault and this wasn't his name.
It started a drip at the feet of his chair,
It started to quiet the flames in her hair.
No longer was the ice, no price acknowledged, no knowledge gained, no lies told, growing old.
She said, I've a house of mirrors and a heart of glass,
But the more glances I steal the less I recognize myself,
Have you ever felt this way.
He said, Yes.
She said, okay.
He felt at his pocket and a splash hit the floor, he checked for more, he checked his socks,
She looked at the door.
She said, I feel cold, and he said, I feel warm.
They looked at each other, it started to pour.
He said, if you're cold, Come Inside From the Rain,
She said, how will I know how to find you again.
He nodded at the clock but refused to explain,
He said, I'm warm
She offered him a candle and he offered her a swim,
And they looked in mirrors and acted on whims.
She said, Do you ever feel as though the hands of the clock rip you in clockwise circles, do you ever feel like time is sharp, do you ever feel like you hate yourself.
She said, tell me we're the same.
He said, Let me tell you a story about a boy of ice,
And a girl of fire.
She said, okay.

Peripheral

I know that the happier I become, the more it’s going to hurt,

the rawer I’ll have to scrub myself to have a chance of scratching out the chalky lines and scribbling new ones over my eyelids,

It’s alright to be addicted to things, it gives you something to look forward to.

Let’s edge out of this slowly, with mittens and scarves,

Twist the tuning slide to muffle the turning pages,

Closing the book is easy but only because I know that I will find a thumb jammed into the spine every time,

It’s rarely mine,

But hope is a sickness, I believe it’s held in the chest, I haven’t learned to cough,

Regret through the temples, thrumming with the vibrations of a couch-spring coil, and the

Guilt in the stomach, I haven’t been hungry for a while now, I can’t even look at food, hell,

I can’t even look myself in the eye.