winter is cold
and snowflakes fall
in sheets (like icing
onto doughnuts yet not as
sweet). they
coat my tounge
as i lift my face
skyward to the blackhole
night. it was a night
like this when i fell. when i got up
my hand was
cut. blood stained my
white glove. stumbling, wishing
i could move faster
out of the cold, i
slipped on ice. when
one is numb
she can easily avoid
the cold.
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