Obvious Imperfections

No, this isn’t where the line for morals begins.
I have obvious imperfections.
The sun has been setting all day and I’m completely incapable of anything.
The only piece of jewelry I own zipped up to my chin.
It dangles like your hope for salvation, but I only want to get warm.
The worst fucking time of year, when everything is covered in dirty snow and
jaded reasons for living.
I think that you’re only in love because you’re cold.
I understand that you don’t want to be alone but I don’t share the sentiment.
I’ve been questioning everything, from the roots that start on your head and
grow down to your knees; the social constructs we’ve inherited, the things
we’ll never break; I let my flag of flaws fly and cast a broad shadow;
maybe it will all get better when we make it to wild’s end.
Can’t you understand that I just want to be alone?