Untitled Winter Verse

There's a harsh beauty in her
her fairer sister can never hope to possess.
It can't be replicated 
only worn in over time 
like a fine patina
Stews of rich red wine with 
musky herbs of depth and desire 
added slowly over time

A beauty that creeps on you 
like a dreich November fog
Settling the silence of a soft Sunday lie in.

Tea, toast and icy cuddles

(image by dark777fairy)

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