/Opposites\

the nights drag on

like a stale cigarette

the smell clinging to every fiber of your being

the cold only making it linger longer

like the cold wind to warm flesh

slowly suffering a silent death

nothing you do seems to help

so the warmth you felt before is just

a distant memory

so I find it funny, how

I'm sitting here on this long night,

smoking a stale cigarette that I

got from a stranger

clinging to the warmth

while I lean out the window on a 13-degree night

I realize that I am the night that drags on,

I am the stale cigarette from a stranger,

& I am the cold wind.

so, how do I become the fire?