The Help of a Hand

My side of the bed was cold,

Even though I laid there next to you

Drowning and soaked from my melancholic waves

Quietly floating off to the distance

I drift in and out of our bed

Avoiding giving you a frozen touch

Your body radiating warmth I crave

I'm trying to not corrupt your day

While I am away from our bed

You woke up an made our bed.

"Good Morning" You smile in your voice too

I wave, struggling to get my voice to smile back

You go prepare for the day; moving in an out of our room

I lay on the bed you made

I stare at Nothing

Shivering from my cold

Your voice breaks through the crashing waves.

You climb onto the bed with me.

Offering me help, you hold out your hand

With doubt these frosty feelings will melt

I take your hand

It feels pointless to accept it, but -

I promised I would wheen you offer

You say nothing

You rub your thumb against mine

You squeeze my hand

Scrape. Spark. Hiss.

A warmth fills my hands and spreads.

The heat of life crawls through my body.

I turn towards you, desperate to dethaw.

Though not fully unfrozen, I can now move.

You encourage me with these small touches

Filled with your love, they give me warmth

They push the fire into my voice steadily, I tell you about the cold and the waves.

You add light banter to those touches

Igniting a laugh I thought I would miss

Those melancholic waves will continue to come

Bringing a cold absence of hope for the future

And a frigid reminder of sorrow for the past

Your help brings me peace and warmth.

The fire will burn lower, your care keeps the waves at bay.

As the fire wanes, I will tend to the embers,

Empowered by the pleasant heat of life

As the cold creeps in, I remind myself

I WILL NOT FREEZE SO LONG AS OUR FIRE BLAZES