The winter winds freeze
My eyelids close, yet blood flow cracks
The crevice of the folded skin.
Tears teem down the contours,
Eroding these fissures.
The salty droplets sting. It itches.
I try rub the pain away,
But the pain paints my eyelids red,
Contour after contour,
Until my fingertips hold scabs of skin.
Samuel Rubadiri 
Painful yet poetic.
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