Shiver
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I ...
sit by the
window ...
cold, damp air
wrapping
tendrils 'round my
nape,
reminding me of
February ...
of her ... of farewell
chill thoughts
gather like
a knot
in the back of
my skull ...
thrumming like Thor's
mallet -
commending the
haughty
hell that dripped
from her
baby-soft
bows
like honeyed poison ...
to ruin
me.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2021
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