Storm’s Favourite Dancer

I’ve spent a few months now, trying to find words
that would explain exactly, the degree to which
the night changed into a darker colour,
in your growing evanescence. How it retched, and turned,
swathing me in layers of unspoken disquiet. Ice speckled
my lashes, a deep, rosy blue tinted my breath.
Solo waltz, within the anatomy of a raging storm.

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