Wishing and musing

It is people like you
Who make me wish I was beautiful

A worthy trinket to hang on your arm.

I would be the autumn sunset embodied in flesh

The merest touch leaving chills down your neck.

But I am only the winter wind

The chill of my touch is biting

The sound of me a wail

And the sight of me unregistered.

But unlike those sunset girls you touch so fondly

My winter wind runs fingers through your hair

Brings color to your cheeks

Chaps your lips with invisible kisses.

You may never see me

You may always be repulsed by me

But what sunset can sing to you in gale?

Or lower you tenderly into the deepest of slumber?

When you are naught but bones

You will not feel the pull of the sun’s warmth

But I will whistle through you, and carry your dust to eternity.

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