Almost always

walls and ceilings.

A meter keeps track,

heat and cool air.

And windows with candles

we light at night to symbolize

a pain we all know exists.

We’ve lost friends,

neighbors gone missing.

We don’t know any of them,

only we grieve,

a testament to our kindness.

Outside the air is a vortex,

similar to that mystique we call

a frigid reminder.

Without structure we’re naked.