Wednesday, February 8, 2012


i awake from icy blackness

winter, sick summer, whose fever breaks
when the clouds break, and the warm air
not dragging me back to bed,
my usual shield from the bitterness,
but instead caressing my heart and skin
as i slowly stretch and rise to breathe the day

breakfast is a white chocolate strawberry
brunch, a banana and coffee
i fling open my windows, let the butterflies in
far away but here, gentle, hovering spring,
i don't need you to be real, to be in love with you
in my now you are true,
that's so real
that it will have to do

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