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Mettle

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i don't have the mettle
to meddle in your affairs,
much as i wish they were mine.

and yet

when i open my eyes
i know meddling is the wrong strategy,
given how little substance
remains
or ever was.
heat only warms when i can see my breath
and now it's summer in february
and i have no need for your heat.

and yet

i still cling to your memory
when i remember how cold i am inside.
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