here it's nice, empty, but full of
dust that breathes from the floorboards
cold, clear light filtering
thick and pure through paneless windows
curtains that reach out violently against
a sudden breeze that makes me hate it
makes my fingers freeze and my nose run
my sleeves damp and stiff and far too thin
here there has never been warmth
was thinking about this poem this morning. it is finally cold here and it always surprises me when winter comes so suddenly and makes the outside world look like home. it's cold and comforting at once for me.
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