by Ian Mullins
Sometimes they fall so fast
they're like snowflakes
you catch in your hands
and take home in your pockets
paste them to your duvet
and drop them into drinks
laughing to think
you ever stood naked in the cold
praying for snow to wipe out the world
and take your face with it
but other times
you take a shotgun into the street
shoot them down
one by one
then nail them to the wall
tell yourself it's not your fault
they don’t really shine
they’re just the glitter a little girl
washes from her hands
till you wonder why you wake up
so bitter and cold
why it’s only snowing
at the other end of the street
outside you feel a snowflake
melting rust on your face
but your eyes see nothing
the snow has burned black
your face is a bullet hole
you crawl back inside
proudly ashamed
saying yes;
I did that.
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