You were breathing fire when I met you
A layer of f rost had dusted the grayish sedge, a faint thread of amber fluid writhed down the crease between your pecs.
Aleksa Ciric
As you moved, parts of you shone like a Vermeer. You seemed at home in the night and the outdoors, something of the woodsman about you, a sense of solving things by force, with the blow of an axe.
That winter they tried to convince me that cold is just a state of mind.