There is
a peculiar winter
in my soul.
The first few flakes
of ice
drifted through me
as motes of light
in an old
dusty hallway
and settled
amidst my bones.
within the recesses
of my being
lays this winter.
yet not numbing.
There is a certain
that exists
when snow has fallen.
The kind
that only allows
the thumping of your heart
to be heard.
As strange as it may sound,
I have developed a certain
for this silence.
For it is here
within the winter
of my soul
that I finally experience



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