Firebyte

I feel a chill in
my bones, the glucose in
my blood concentrate itself
elsewhere.

Fingertips lay
themselves bare in these
paragraphs like voices of
my past that lost track of

their times.

And if these
ghosts of mine are as cold
as the winds outside that charge
my windows,

pour through
the drafts, tremble beneath
the pillows,

I may have to wait
until this cold
front breaks before I can confront
my understanding of

warmth
again.

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