don’t smile, you’ll get sensitive teeth

leaving your home during winter is a

bigger shock to the system

than a cold shower

sharp inhales of a frosty dagger

your fingers twitching before becoming a cold rigid number

the first three minutes is full of fucking shits and regrets

plastic bags clinging to the skin

cutting off circulation from the hand within

tucking your chin and your mouth and your nose behind a scarf that your grandma chose

your spine curving round with every

shiver it will shrink

eyes watering every time that you blink

arriving home but suddenly burning up

it’s a race against time before you turn into mush

your coat is an oven and you’re almost cooked

fumbling to throw the coat on a hook

sitting down in a hot flush

until the next time you go out

all in a rush