A winter bite that

mocks the spring, pincers its cocoon.

A life supported?

Cease one's internal decay,

Even ice melts. Love's fluidity.

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The curtains a cocoon

which I have outgrown

crushing me

though I dare not venture out

my wings maimed

by an internal eternity.

Some days they open

as the sunlight shines

and snow falls

yet it remains a parallel world

a door to an unfamiliar universe

remains locked.

Even inside plates pile up

like a porcelain possum

they ...

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