she thinks
I laugh to my friend
the snow
(who bites me)
my talk of flames
was for her
she thinks
I tell my friend
the frost
(who spites me)
I am burning
her
don't worry,
my friends
(who do not love me)
I am only
setting aflame
myself
YOU ARE READING
digital dance - poetry
Poetryyoure not alone in the way you scream at a god who hears but does not understand or care to learn
