By Kyle Parrish
Date: 5 March 2000
Midnight Sun
I am practicing being cold.
Light fades from any evening, and
Someday I may never see you again.
I shall have to be prepared.
I still have burns on my fingers from the time I lay with you,
And I shy away from candles
which still remind me of you.
I keep a chill closer to my hear than the brass ring
with three letters on it.
There are nights enough, and moon to keep me safe;
I hardly ever awake in the wrong place anymore.
I only wonder if there is ice
where I am going.
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