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Cold Hands.

Winter evenings,
foggy world,
how would
you even
know
I am looking
for you.
Cold hands
and
warm heart
might just
find you
wherever you are.

And if I do 
find something
as rare as you,
(Blame it 
on serendipity.)
I’ll make sure;
I tear out that
bitter wretched heart,
out of your chest 
to make you 
return to me.
Cold hands do 
come in handy.

Cold Hands.

by smridh1990

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