wJan 21, 2006

metaphors are great

I want the snow in my hand because it’s clean and it’s pure and it’s pretty and it’s alone. And when it’s cupped in my hand, it’s crisp and cold but when I squeeze my hand, it melts in a few moments. And then my hand is red and raw and stinging, and there are droplets of moisture that look like transparent blood, glistening honestly as they drip to the pavement.
scribbled mystickeeper at 1:59 AM

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