Photos,  Sinful Sunday

Winter, Waiting

These winter days are bare and bleak; a coldness is seeping into me that I cannot escape. I can’t outrun the wind and so I hunker down, hibernating, cool flesh like sunbleached bone, warming slowly under snowy feathers, amidst the pillows and the quiet sounds I make in vain, one handed, scrambling to imagine, fighting to forget.

 

See who else is sinning this week …lip print logo and text "sinful sunday"

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