Cold glances and ice pick glares utter love's flaming hearts.
Irony; sizzling; fighting the flakes from on High to cool my delusions of must haves.
Numb now; nothing now;
Geometric shapes of yesterdays forming artistic values and hourglass timings of acceptance.
Relief that once frozen; it doesn't hurt.
Fire is all that melts ice...
I prefer the chill of reckless abandonment and searching endlessly for the first blooms of hope...
Spring must come.
Seasons pass and to every thing there is a season.
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