Muffle my chest

And she stood
by the side
of the road
like she didn’t feel
the cold. Her lips
were burgundy,
the snow fell
on the hood
of her vest.
Her breath steamed
as she exhaled
and she warmed her fingers 
with
her warm breath.
The snowflakes danced
around her
as if they didn’t dare to touch her.
As if they knew
of their melting fate
when they touched her porcelain skin.
Wind came up,
the air blew the frost
around her blushing nose.
She buried her arms in the pockets
of her vest.
She stood there
like she was waiting for someone.
She stood there
for a long time,
under the cone
of light
of a street lamp.
She rubbed her
bare legs
because she had to.
The skirt
was not suitable for the season.
The fabric
went down to her knees,
exposing herself to the cold
as if to say
she wouldn’t wait
for anyone
outside tonight.
But I knew her,
nobody could tell her
what she had to look like
when.
I watched her for two cigarette lengths,
wondering if I should say hello,
but seeing me
would kill her and then
I stood there
undecided for longer than I wanted,
until a BMW held next to her
and a guy in a light beige jacket
opened the passenger door for her.
I’m curious to see
when you’ll realize
that this guy’s
just spraying fortune cookie wisdom
and even lives on less”
but I didn’t want to be
a walking, one-liner swinging
dick-measuring contest.
So I swallowed it.

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