Good Winter

With precision, this time
Monstrous, meticulous, and blind.
I see in numbers,
Think in equations,
And sometimes walk in straight lines.

Work within the parameters,
Disinfected love.
Clear it all of germs, of contamination,
Of all outside bodies.

The filth on your fingers,
You push it into my eyes,
And rub it into my lips.
And I just gently stroke your hair.

The dirt from your hands,
You crawl,
And make it worse.
I just watch
Whilst you become more filthy,
Shifting away from this antiseptic moment.

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