Perfect Cold

Perfect Cold

Why do I like it when it’s cold out?
When I get goosebumps and feel a chill?
When the wind doesn’t howl and the sky is clear?
Why do I hold it all do close and dear?

When the clouds are fleeing and the sun is peaking
Air currents bristle and fall leaves rustle
Green in trees deplete, replaced by yellow and red
An unwarming sun on a light blue sky

The bristle of frost a constant threat
Misty mornings and bright nights
White specks of dust on a blackboard
Fog from the mouth and stars forming gourds

Ice reaching in, grabbing the lungs
Infiltrating breaths, drying the tongue
Eyes that cry their own snow
No heat to rise with no one to show

so cold
The cold is a blanket and you’re tucked in
A pillow of cryo and head sunk in

Why is it when it’s coldest I feel warmest?
When it’s darkest I feel lightest?
Does everyone think I’m crazy?
Or am I the only sane one?

Look at these white blackboard specks
Tell me what you see
Is there a dipper or something else
If I said a man, would you flee

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