There is still to be salvaged.
The locked doors didn't see the loss of everything.
Just some.
Go, open the door and pick up the things you love most deep down.
No matter how much resentment you have for them, hold them close.
They might be icy cold from your winter, still, hold it like it's the sun, let it burn.
The love is not lost, you know true love's cost, pick up the remnants of your world, apologise.
They feel you, they want you, they stay outside your bricked doors.
They sleep through the night, wake up in the morning, and try again.
They want to see you, love.
I know you'll shut your doors again.
I write this in vain knowing full well your moon is to wane.
Why do you shut yourself out?
Seek help, ask questions, don't stay stuck.
Make it out, see the light, may you never bring winter again.
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