change of season

The winds had change on their minds that March
With the gusts whipping the substance out of my determination
And my back up against that frosty wall
What could I do but give in to your fire
It was a matter of survival
justified by entropy

But your ardent flame
was a raspy tongue
First cleansing me
then sloughing off my skin
it started at my flesh

All my ugliness revealed
sharp bones bared
and teeth chattering
only ignited your heart

Barely standing
I sought in your shelter
a place to heal

And now that we’ve built this house
to which I’ve cleaved
like a tortoise to its shell
The winds’ howls beckon again
rattling me to risk
tearing myself, you,
and its walls asunder

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