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I Worship You, Darling

Anngelina Minnittee

The cold ache of my bones is akin to
pins and needles pressed through my skin
skewering the cartilage of my joints.
Frost begins forming at the edges of my hands
luring me to sleep, the deepest of releases.
The winter consumes every part of me,
ice running crisp and jagged across my face.
Numbing every sense like novocaine
until I think nothing, feel nothing, am nothing.

Like a feverous dream,
I see the blurred visage of a savior.
Her soft arms become my safe haven,
skin melting away under her velvet touch
as she strikes a match atop
the rough surface of my heart.
Burning bright, stocking coals,
steam blowing out of my inner furnace.
And again, I think everything, feel everything, am everything.

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