As the light recedes into the horizon,
the north wind seep through
cracks in the window
and slits in the door.
My toes are cold
against the bedroom floor,
and I wonder when
my blood will unthaw,
and when
I might feel the light
once again.
exulansis
Muscle Memory
poetry01.27.2019 – 11:08 p.m
My brain knows this loneliness well –
it has seen it many times before;
yet my heart still fights in protest,
saying it hurts just like the first time –
maybe even more.
