I know I roused you from sleep,
convinced you to walk with me barefoot
to the center of a frozen lake.
I know I said the flowers
would be coming. I know
I said I knew the way.
But we won’t be able to afford
any color this winter.
And it’s not just a case
of being able to live through it.
Everything I say is an attempt
at convincing myself. And I’m sorry
you had to overhear.
Now I’m sorry we’re sinking
I’m sorry the water we’re drowning in
isn’t at least warm.