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by Maria Kintner

I screamed.
How do we reiterate that
the night is too cold for this?

But my bare feet did not freeze
while the warmth of my blood
surged through my veins.

I saw you.

Why didn't you kill me,
or take what you intended to steal.
You walk around in lies, but
your guilt carries over in the wind.

I am wary of the hole you punched
into my dreary little space. You left
your stench in my atmosphere, and the whole
world can smell your intentions.

We are lost and alone,
naked against the cold.
You have made us this way,
and I am trying not to hate you for it.

12/21/2007

Posted on 12/21/2007
Copyright © 2024 Maria Kintner

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