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Torpid souls in the heat of winter
Wind whispers through the ears of distant lovers as the sun hides behind ominously positioned clouds
where their gray cast shadows on quiet hearts
quiet minds, & quiet eyes alike
Poor lovers, transfixed by natures embodiment of their undisclosed truths,
words no more manageable than a peep escaping a ducklings throat
Eyes shut wide, glued by dependance
Waiting for mama to come, waiting to be fed
But there is no food here, just gray
& mama will not come it is just you and i
& the feelings we dare not bare
Starving ourselves
waiting for spring to melt the ice away
Copyright ©
rated c.
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