still. damn it.

i wrote a whole poem here.

and it just came out in rhyme…

and then i deleted the whole damn thing

cause its too light..

its just too light.

its blizzarding

and the branches are weighed

in whitened perfection

and im huddled in a blanket

with my hair in a messy knot

on top of my crazy head..

and i have food on the stove.

and im not hungry at all.

but i cooked.

i cooked!

for the first time in forever,

because sitting here,

in proverbial nook

just triggered this need

to have something warm

and delicious

to feed

a ghost..

i used to die from wanting on days like today,

cause theyre perfect.

they really are.

and id want that prince

to trample on in

with his big old feet

and mess up my floor…

and wed sit in warm

and puzzled fit

while the world got taken over

by snow..

and hold hands

and hearts

and nest together

and forget everything

but this.

but this.

and now,

ive shut the fire,

but the house still smells,

of all i dreamed

for you.

and i sit alone-

under fleecy folds

and try really hard

to forget

those dreams


About lifeofawillow
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