You know
It's funny,
The way we make each other feel.

One hand lends to comfort,
But the other is cold,
Like glass in December,
The way your breath sticks,
And you draw pictures of what you want.
Things click, but it doesn't last.

Too early in the season for a winter heart.

I've operated in opposites
So I could understand the game.
I'm born to bite the bitter truth that
Lies between two reaching arms.
I have come to know what small
Feels like in a sense.

I could have painted this long ago.

I'll not revel in sadness.
It's not my place to disagree.
However, the truth of the matter lay
In keeping with a promise buried in
A capsule made of gold, and strong.
The one thing I cherish most of all:

To know myself, completely incomplete.