

ColdThe icicles draped from my fingertips and I held them in my hands... I dragged them 'cross my broken wrists to erase his cold demands...Cold
There is frost upon my arms... and it's crawling up my face I am it's queen, one alone him, my frostbit' fate.
I feel no numbness on my skin. O, I can feel the cold... inside a numbness hiding, dead emotions draped with mold...
Your fingertips all held me fast an anchor to the heat although I could not whisper how, your tearful face was sweet.
I think you see the cold, now, love y
jammin
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