flames crackle,

but i shiver.

the alcohol in my hand

doesn't warm the body

that rejects that which it lives for.

and fire cannot bring back to life

limbs which droop and deaden.

i am waiting for your kiss of life.

from miles away,

your heart and body call:

come to me,

they say.

but i cannot.

so i sit by the fireside,

sipping,

mechanical,

and pretend i am warm.