A beautiful mind

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Posts tagged with "cat"

May 1
You hate the cold. 
It seeps into your bones like water into a sponge, swells you up with misery and always, always exits drip drop through your nose in the middle of the night.
Cold is a hateful thing. 
It stabs into your lungs like tiny needle teeth scrabbling for even the most tenuous of grips on your organs.  And even when you shiver, shake off the droplets of chill like a wet dog, still it clings saran-wrap style, leaves the smell of frost on your clothes and the taste of it on your tongue. 
Books speak to you, and you to them, a mutual song-language that you share, and literature says it all:  fear, a frozen tundra, barren and crisp with winter; and love, warmth, trust a molten metal in your belly.
Cold is vicious.  Its winds crawl through hidden cracks to stroke icy fingers along your frost-numb cheek.  Despite a coat, and hat, and gloves, the cold can always find a way in.
Cold is clever, too. Disguised as perfect snowflakes, it sneaks its way into your good graces. But when you are defrosting, tears streaming down your face because it hurts, you know the truth again.
You hate the cold.
It is mutual.

You hate the cold. 

It seeps into your bones like water into a sponge, swells you up with misery and always, always exits drip drop through your nose in the middle of the night.

Cold is a hateful thing. 

It stabs into your lungs like tiny needle teeth scrabbling for even the most tenuous of grips on your organs.  And even when you shiver, shake off the droplets of chill like a wet dog, still it clings saran-wrap style, leaves the smell of frost on your clothes and the taste of it on your tongue. 

Books speak to you, and you to them, a mutual song-language that you share, and literature says it all:  fear, a frozen tundra, barren and crisp with winter; and love, warmth, trust a molten metal in your belly.

Cold is vicious.  Its winds crawl through hidden cracks to stroke icy fingers along your frost-numb cheek.  Despite a coat, and hat, and gloves, the cold can always find a way in.

Cold is clever, too. Disguised as perfect snowflakes, it sneaks its way into your good graces. But when you are defrosting, tears streaming down your face because it hurts, you know the truth again.

You hate the cold.

It is mutual.