The air was still,

a weightless cold hovering over my skin,

the hairs on my arms standing with a curve,

all I felt was the prick of a needle;


Thoughts a winter hell,

Mind replaying passed Decembers,

Where the gift of the seconds before were more of a dream than the nightmare of the years to come,

Taking off into a sprint,

running towards the movie playing in my mind pausing on still memories,

Just as still as this chill winter’s day,

or is it night?

This morning should be better because I can finally remember,

to be in the moment,

can be a curious concept…

Maybe if I stand still and breathe this in then maybe…

Maybe I won’t be so cold

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