No, winter has never been my season, never more than a cold, darkened, accusing finger pointed, much prefer the Spring to icicles between my fingertips.
in the dark hush of my bedroom I sharpen
my thoughts.
When the snowstorm comes, or the wind chill sets
in, or the gusts of wind blows snow upon my door, it is then that I realize that
there are some elements of life I won’t ever be able to beat, so instead, I will attempt to ignore them until Spring.
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