open your arms and show me my home,
because i had the saddest saddest dream last night,
and woke up to disappointing air.
your voice is honeyed and silver and frozen like a january sea,
and my fingertips burn like feathers on fire, attached to a small traveling bird,
flying north instead of south to catch a cold.
open your arms and show me the north,
i will sigh high into them
i will sigh whenever, wherever i want.
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