How do you make me
feel so rotten,
stranger?
With the wind in your lips
you howl; chasing into
my deepest insecurities.
I wave flurries upon myself.
Though you'll never know
just how cold the taste
of conjured wind curls.
Piercing through the fabric,
chilling my veins,
until the seams tear;
Letting out the frosted air.
How do you make me,
stranger?
How do you make me care?
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