hypnagogic anamnesis

hazy snow

standing in the snow with stale winter hair singing along with feeling to her formerly favourite songs the cloud of breath that spills from her lungs provides the musical accompaniment as her drowsy memories make the sound warmer than the hot chocolate she forgot back on the porch of the home she lost an age ago

it’s hard to be unloved, but harder to be forgotten the bite of the frost feels like penance and epiphany at once the chill that nips at her heels as sharp as the words that fell from her lips and the numb fingertips that fit like gloves remind her she’ll never—

—never—

—never get to trace them along their body again

but the snow that falls from the sky still cradles her body and surely that’s enough to feel like love at least for one sleepy night, deep in her hazy recollection of days where wintry nights burned like fire

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