prompt: hazy winter morningsMature

we sit on the roof smoking joints and watching the snow fall.
it is cold but our fingers have been numb for so long
that we don’t even feel the rest.  winter always brings me back
to death and endings and I am watching the sun rise with you
but I am thinking of all the times we’ve cut each other up
and I am wondering how two people heal the damage
when there’s no blood or bruising to mark the wound,
just a hundred things we always hold back, inflating, ballooning,
threatening to burst beneath our skin and poison everything.

The End

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