The fireplace is warm and dry,
the wind soaks the trees on this cold winters night.
As you tell me we’ve shared out last
there’s just one thing that I have to ask.
Please don’t leave,
there’s still presents under the tree.
It’s ***, ***, *** I need.
~
Biting cold gusts of wind washed chills throughout every single pore of my body as the moon peeked out of the clouds to watch my body shiver and my heart tremble, delighting itself to the misery of the masses, namely mine. Fluttering within me were decisions waiting to be made, questions dying for the answers that fit, and a heart, yearning for a pat.
But beyond me held a pride so viciously abused that decisions were left to be, answers hid from their respective questions, and the heart, the heart was slowly giving up to an excruciating beat.
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