beauty, masculinity, poetry, women

faint bursts of a defiant something

Cold, quiet morning

The faint bursts of something

Sat on a branch

Singing in defiant bursts

Despite the chill

Which keeps the doors closed

Would I sing with such joy?

In the face of bitter, biting chill?

How I might roar,

Plumes of breath

Spilling like unguarded secrets

To run, to play

Despite each second of cold,

Its rough caresses

Making me shake

Like a virgin crossing

The marital threshold

Sing, my friend,

Here, let me pass

A single flame

We shall endure,

Such as we are

With what we have

For whatever time

Remains

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