Sometimes I hate mountains

It is so cold here at the top of my heart. I brought a handful of jackets but somehow it is not enough. There are days when my own embrace is not warm and the tent I made for myself does not fit my frame. There are days when I wish I could hear voices that are not mine, songs that I don't sing, or even a hymn I don't memorize. There are days when I wish the sun rises without it setting and leaving. There are nights, frozen nights, where I look for solace in the arms of others, blankets I can wrap myself in when I'm shivering while lying down. There are nights when the stars are incapable of shining –looking dead – and the moon is just a celestial being stalking me from my head. There are nights when fear creeps into my stomach and I get scared of ghosts that lurk in the shadows I create. There are times when I call out names my lips barely remember the taste. There are times, trying times, where in I wanna go down and push myself in the homes of others — even if I'm not welcome and the doors are shut tight. There are places where I hope I could rest but no pillows are available for my head. There are places I wanna hide when I am so little I can barely see myself. There are people that I wish were here but have long climbed down. I bet they were freezing too. It is so cold here at the top of my heart, my tears unable to thaw, my fingers barely moving but there are pieces of me... still waiting for some fire.