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Frozen Kisses by Patricia Carragon

​Warmth has no home in a house built from ice –
Love cannot express itself in any degree.
His lips are as frozen as mine
When we share our feelings by the windowsill.

Two trees watch our drama unfold behind glass,
See us as skeletons of themselves –
They stand bare and lifeless against the wind.

We pause to gaze out the window –
Drawn to our reflections upon barren bark,
Fully aware that our love is out of season.
Picture
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