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The Untitled Series (No. 6)

Untitled no. 6

For everything is scariest in the cold,

The cold has weakened you, for if the Cold can nip at your ankles and toes,

Who can’t nip, and burn, and rip?

What might not tear you in half, and massage each and every rib bone upon you.

She’ll be crueler than any mistress worth more than a handful of cash, the Cold, bless her heart,

Bless her heart,

she’ll leave scars and kisses and bruises and hickies.

The Warm shall walk you through unlit forest with only fear for moths,

Warm shall hug you on your walk to bed, with too much wine and too many flowers in you, to make sure you are safe.

The warmest parts of the soil will come up to greet you,

You with your raindrops, and sweat drops, and buckets of sparkling water, and dirty fingers from planting too many hyacinths.

Warm holds on too long, and then,

Out of nowhere, with no holy feeling,

she scurries away like a brown field mouse, caught with a sunflower seed. 

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The Untitled Series (No. 6)
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