You love me. But your love, It’s the same love As the January Sun; An abbreviated afternoon Punctured with pockets Of cumulonimbus skies. Your kisses breed frostbite, Coating every syllable In a gelid timber. But I found something, Even if you are Just passing through. And it was enough For me to latch onto, Even … Continue reading “It feels like I’m thinning out my soul, turning once sturdy cider bark into bargain bin brown paper bags.”