Black, wet branches, the world

Black, wet branches, the world:
glass fish in a frozen pool,
wind gusts carrying stolen smiles,
and cold
confused kisses.

Breath goes in -

icy tombstones are good for your back, she said
let's bury remorse and shame here

-breath goes out.

You should go, she said:
the rain has already started
to dissolve your shadow.

Cool

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