Cold hands

Cold hands hold on
cling on to the fabric of his coat

The wind keeps blowing
till the skin of her hands burst

Ripped apart and flesh
exposed to the ruthless claws of winter air

Hot liquid pour downwards
into the deep pool of warmth that puddled

Pain rips through the nerves
rippling along the spindling ends

Echoing
till eternal silences and numbness overcomes

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