Crunch

June 29, 2020

The crunch of the snow beneath my feet
sounds like my ears scraping across my pillow.
Am I dreaming?


I place my hands deep into the fires,
confident I will not be burned.
The flesh twists away and my bones become molten steel


that quickly cools and reshapes in the blistering winter wind.


In my dreams, it is a long winter
my soul is a frozen block,
trapped my souls cries out for the day that it will be pushed


into the forge and cast into a new design.

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