BY indefiniteloop

“It’s so cold here. It’s so nice, and cool. The wind has her own charms, and she bites hard. She bites into you; thawing the heart in the process of flowing to, and fro. I stand out, on the terrace floor, here; smoking, and wearing flimsy clothes that offer no chase, to her. I cannot for the life of me, tell the difference in my breath; tell the difference between the cigarette’s smoke, and the smoke caused by the cold, damp wind. Both burning my chest; burning, inside my chest, charring lungs. Both, filling up holes that were left unto; drilled within me, by the stars. And when I leave here, smudging this cigarette’s butt, I’ll be reminiscent of her. And when I leaver her, leaving this cold, healing wind behind, there’ll be another hole to fill within.” -

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