Fire and Ice
The tinkling of your laughter, water flowing in a mountain stream, has become the agonized crunch of walking through shards of broken ice, cutting, freezing, while the heat of your lips, like licking at the crater of a volcano, dangerous but a sweet harbinger of things to come, has spewed molten with the eruption, hot lava encases me, you are gone.
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Jaybird
I am retired, having worked primarily as a librarian, but have done freelance proofreading, copy editing, and book reviewing. I wrote some poetry many years ago, but decided it was bad and stopped, since I had other things to do. For the last ten...
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