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As winter creeps upon the city
I feel my circulation slow
while staring at hand-held lovers
wishing for someone to show
me how to feel anything for anyone,
when I’ve lost all feeling in my own
hands. How am I supposed to love
at all if I can’t even shake the cold
nostalgia of you? Naively, I yawn
you off as I do sleep and wait up,
anticipating you like death.
To wake alone is all I want
but instead I wake without you