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The Cold
Past love settles over me like snow,
and I sit and watch it melt all I know
until I can see who I am again
after the blizzard finally ends.
Then the blizzard comes swirling home,
and I throw open all of the windows,
to welcome in the familiar cold
when the warmth has grown old.
The frostbite is etched into my skin,
but I’ll always let the cold in,
feeling its icy ache in my bones
is preferable to the burn of being alone.
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