Hope served me a deep pillow for my sleepy madness. You know this;
an attendant held a silver tray and we heard chimes in this late night wind
of a late night world. Like the brutal swing and fall of each wager
between you and I that tonight will be the coldest night of the year,
so too the polar bears snuggle by the fire. Or do they?
You know this; telling someone you are in love with them. Standing nude
as fuck in words, in worlds. Fuck. That is the moment you take back any sort
of king status you offered with a pillow and thank the sweet cold earth holding
your feet that there are more princes. The polar bears snuggle a strange bluespruce, instead. Dear King, you will never exhaust me.