Cold Nights

nights wrap
my heart in
Memories of you;
When your love moulded
me on the potter’s wheel,
Your eyes cut amorphous me,
Escaped and dripped into my soul;
Your streets spoke to me as I walked past
Their bends, in words that fell off from your tongue.
Now as the shroud of clouds claw at the moon
And this room is filled with your absence,
While the air folds onto itself,
Empty and without your warmth,
The picture on the shelf
reminds me of your
Touch, nourishing
And soothing
My tired


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