the king & queen of summershade

nine

n i n e

ninth day of winter.

i sit closer towards him.

i see him light a cigarette.

i see him take a puff.

"you're gonna kill yourself."

"that'd be nice."

"you don't smile."

"you noticed."

i played with the snow on the floor.

my finger feels numb.

i don't care.

"raeanne-sherry summers."

"the poem has a title now."

"what's your name?"

"not yet."

"okay."

he takes another puff.

he wore a coat.