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Burning Whisky

It wasn't a welcome home parade,
just the cold breeze blowing
a confetti of light snow.
Stepping out of the house past midnight,
shirtless and bare footed,
I expose my skin
to falling snow and bitter air.
I give in to temptation
and stand still,
white powder covers my face,
touches my shoulders, arms
but the yellow porch light
struggles to warm me up,
so unlike you... effortless, efficient.
Pull me up close,
let me wear you tight
like a heavy down jacket,
and fill your hands
to an overflow
of me
while your hair brushes away the snow,
warming me up deep within
like a shot of burning whisky.


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