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Visions of Winter

Writer's picture: michael  michael

The morning sun envelops me as it's rays fall around me, caressing each icicle in an almost tender embrace as I make my way through the forest. The explosion of color is enough for me to recoil - for a moment - reminding me of the finite cold and the dimorphic nature of winters embrace - violent beauty, innocent corruption, the endless cold that makes you feel so warm.


Our first embrace...the taste your mind and the scent of your mouth. To inhale the vision of your fingertips as they dance across my eyes. The music of your soul entrances me as I cry in hopes that this vision of Winter won't be my last.


The sharp intake of the cruel evening is almost a memory. The snow falls thick and heavy like our lust for each other.  As we succumb to it's deadly embrace and leave what innocence we had behind we are granted fleeting dreams of virtue that can never be.

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