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“Stay there all you want
until you freeze to death,”
I told that love,
who should by now
know better
but choose not to.
I speak to it like
a little stubborn child.
4 a.m. and sleeping
without a blanket
the night sitting on its skin
too tired to move
too comfortable and sleepy
to remember the danger
of waking up—if at all—
with all feeling gone
and chilled to the very bone.
.

icerose
.
“Love Like Winter” by photographer Lydia Greenaway
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