couple sentences for her.
i have invited the winter into my bedroom each night with the hope that it will soon get tired and rest beside me. such a fool i am to fool it, because it knows my truest desire, which is not to dance in snow covered fields with it or admire its frozen stillness any longer. we've fallen out of love and now i long to sleep with its enemy summer in sheets of linen with familiar air that massages my back through wide open windows. i compose the poem for the season that takes my hand and warms my flesh. it beckons me to dance with it barefoot on its fresh fields, and bronzes me bare chested and bare backed at the highest point of its longest days.
unfinished.
unfinished.