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Jo Baez Jan 2016
Comfort was sitting outside my apartment stairs
At 2 a.m
In the dead cold weather
As I blew my warm breath into the air
Mimicking the actions of smoking a cigarette
While you cuddled next to me
Comfort was humming my thoughts out
As I unraveled
While I sat outside my apartments stairs
At 3 a.m
And you came and sat next to me
Comfort died two weeks ago
outside my apartment stairs
On a cold Wednesday night
Comfort lived in a tiny feline body
Comfort had a name, his name was No Face
Jo Baez Jan 2016
They say that love makes you feel butterflies.
So I cut open my stomach to set them free.
I watched them spontaneously combust.
Like moths to flames
Flocking around, ignited,
Melting, tacitly

— The End —