Don’t look too closely

By | 1 November 2019

The cold of winter haemorrhages
as raised circles of flesh
bump down to skin on knees
the texture of underripe peaches,
teeth hurt from bighting down
the chatter of days
bows low.

The second cup of coffee
turns into a third
days are full of lay ins and layered clothes,
my conscience, like tangled hair,
is not worthy of reflection
I choose my wardrobe to hide the comfort
then balance it up with more.

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