in the winter i get sad, and sleep a lot
cocooned in pages of pornography and prayer
dreaming my saviour is orpheus in the cave
(we all know how well that went)
she sends me flowers like no man's ever sent
cut fresh from her more optimistic dreams
slipped into envelopes and mailed with warm air
little bits of spring to soothe my sleep
for all her hope i still suspect her
does she believe in butterflies?
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