Thoughts from a park bench in January

It is deadly and biting and chill

The way it streaks past my face

Attacks my hands, pushes me to finish before I get hurt.


It holds on, seeps through my protection, dares me to hide.

But what if I don't want to?

This feeling, this chill in my bones

Is like an old friend, deadly and lovely.


It won't let me speak, freezing my knuckles so I stop

But I fight through the pain.


It is beautiful. So painfully beautiful.

The ice cold cutting through

Past the sunlight trying to reach me, but it fights back.


I could stay here until it takes me

Let it freeze my body until I am but a statue

A cautionary tale of love and desire

I could stay here but I choose to hide, I choose to come inside

To save my hands

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