November 18th | "Saccharine"

The air is a thousand souls flitting through the wind

the snow a million memories slowly wearing thin;

This storm is a cool canopy crafted for a queen,

this frostbite nothing but flush from a dream;

The sky is a bounty from where crystal creams spout,

my mouth an open cavern caught in a drought;

our hearts race

and I wish to taste

the subtle sweetness

of a frost-kissed face.

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