Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash
It’s hard
To breathe
when to
morrow
comes shrou
ded in
snow and
my veins
tighten
as taut
ening
ropes round
my neck
warm as
her touch
but sans
her urge
to stop /
crack crack
goes the
script to
life as
dusk sets
in and
snow moves
closer
and clo
ser and
pelts the
window /
but when
I was
a kid
I could
touch the
snow and
lick as
much as
I want
ed sans
fear of
just this /
it’s hap
pening
again
she lets
go of
my neck
as my
veins turn
blue like
rivers
dotting
the land
scape then
freezing /
it hurts
but if
i catch
my breath
i will
asphyxiate.