The Cold Air

It stung me in the morning
The cold air
Grabbed at me
Until it dug its nails into my thigh
And I limped
With every step
The cold twisted its long fingers around my leg
And I felt the icicles forming
Deep in my joints
The pain muffled in sharp breaths
I began to shiver
It rippled along my back
And I heard cold’s laugh
Rumbling in sharp and wicked syllables
Whispering welcome me home


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