Gaze

We are all a dime a dozen

Count our sorrows, compare our suns

Nobody matters, not you, not I

We seek to cut the gold from our eyes

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quiet

Usually, there is cold.

Ice and deftness, dexterity and chill.

But when the slow-deep comes, the fire

Lights in her hands. The warmth spreads

Through her veins

And cradles her heart. It squeezes

Like a vest, like a binding

The current carries her away.

She flickers out for a time

And the warmth

Stays; the tongues of flame

Lighting their own way.