Paper Dolls

The wooden cabinet creaks,
your scissors,
dull, than at once sharp,
cut into winter,
like the taste of branches,
I’m blinded by colored paper,
your eyes as fierce
as the wolves outside,
as dark as a screaming owl,
the blond of your hair
flickers in richness,
like wheat blowing,
in a thunderstorm,
I am cells multiplying,
and transforming,
walking the earth,
in slow painful steps,
and we play with paper dolls,
that you patiently cut,
out of passionate intentness,
I am lightning touching the water,
and would disappear,
if I passed over these moments,
that make you beautiful,
like an icy breath,
blending into the wind.
I understand,
we are made of matter,
but I think a piece of me,
has snuck into you
and spins in euphoric agony.

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