Chose not to hear
the words a forked tongue spews
I’m too distracted by
the tiny summer dress she wears

So I’ve fallen prey
to the perfect teeth
the weight behind those
swimming eyes
and that tiny summer dress

There’s no such thing
as winter here

Breathe that cold wind
It follows at your heels
like all the
broken ties
still warm from bridges burned

And you make it hard
to put you in your place
but I will
gladly try
to be the sheathe to that sharp tongue

I knew you’d bring
that winter here

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