Looking Out Stained Glass Windows

17 degrees and dropping
The coldest night of the year
With everything between us
It feels like the coldest night of my life
Being obliged to recline
Never helped me to decide what this means
How will I ever feel the things I’ve felt for you again
I write in this bathroom
To clear my conscience
Who knew then and now would be rewritten
Words of foul-mouthed boys dishearten my soul
But, it’s mostly affecting my pride
I want to slander through rumors that are sung
Slang on, but that’s my own endless flame
Untold bills are misconceived
They help me to settle the debt owned by my transgressions
And you say, “I can’t trust you”
I think I see why