Friday, November 23, 2012

Winter Afternoon

It slices; like a sharp razor
On a smooth, pale wrist.

It gashes; making the wound
Bleed nostalgia. Teardrops ooze

And clot, as bitter winds
Smart the cracked cheeks.

The world shirks away
Unfeeling, in its grey stillness.

Even loneliness deserts you
On a cold winter afternoon. 

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