It\’s still cold in April


Your eyes have turned to stained glass and the whole world stands still.
It's a welcoming quiet.
Always the kind where you find your skin chilled but the pit inside your stomach warm and somehow it balances out the thunder in your head.

I can feel my skin melt away from my bones
I remember how your curls twisted around your face.
You said you loved the cold and I felt myself light on fire.

Snowflakes are melting on my tongue and I can't remember why
Two in the morning had never felt so obscure, so weightless.
Ice seeps into my scalp and I can taste it on my tongue.
I tuck sentences behind my ears and they contort into that good kind of quiet.
The crooked line that holds us together breaks on impact and I can feel snow angels forming around me.
Time no longer exists in the windowless coffin I sleep in,
But our future will bloom in the summertime.

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