i love the way / each breath makes itself known, clouds of / aspiration, almost as proof / that my body does, indeed, work for / its life

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i love / how snow falls on hair like / pearls on fire, on / hers especially.

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i love the sounds of steps over crushed / textures, a soft reminder / of being alive / of being one among many, many

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i love how fragile / parts are covered, how / limp necks are supported by blood red wool, / bound and rebound / into a chokehold.

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i love how every time, without fail / wen the crystal ash falls from the skies / i am a child again.