And even behind the barricade of
a double-paned glass window, you can
still hear the wind blow down
the half-deserted midnight streets.

And you remember the cut and sting,
the twanging bite of ice-cold air
seemingly pushing itself
straight through you.

And it makes you wonder
why the other half never deserted
in the first place.

And it makes me wish
you could remember why we
only ever wanted to be
stuck out there
forever.