Rebuired

Reburied

Nothing but the hum of the computer
The heater growling and the buzzing lights
No chorus and no witnesses
So I give in and run my fingers over
The chambers of my heart, pulsing softly
Softly and a brush of warmth in my chest
Winter is here now, and I must bury it in the mud
Against the chill winds and the coming sun
In the dry time, I must be leather over bone