the texture of hope

underneath my fingertips, hope feels like candyfloss

saccharine wisps of pastel unravelling at my touch

feathery flyaways dancing across skin

the spun sugar like cobwebs, fine and ethereal

 

 

 

on the nape of my neck, hope feels like sunlight

gentle warmth spreads across the arches of these shoulders

a tingling trail left, as hope’s glow thaws

the chill that once set inside of these bones

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