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invernoThe winter morning whispers to me.
It runs its gentle touch
Over my skin and sings into my ear
"I love you".
As it freezes my very bones it cries to do so
For winter is a kind soul, although misguided
Told to freeze her children
Was the right thing to do, and knows no other way.
smokeA flash, the sound of a tiny wave
Crashing against a tiny beach
And the flame lights. You bring it up
To your lips and light the white cylinder
You tell me you can live without.
As you breathe I hear your lungs
Cry out in pained relief, and then longingly exhale
As the drug enters your system, binding to your blood
You sigh with the satisfaction
Of creating such beautiful patterns in the sky.
With death comes beauty. I have learned this
From your gentle breathing that will, one day, cease.
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