(no subject)

[pantryslut]

My compassion
tastes like ashes.

It is not a blanket to keep you warm at night.
It is not a chimney, nor a furnace,
not samovar, not even a mug
of steaming chocolate.
Not even a sip.

It is not a banked campfire.
It is not a pair of mittens.
It is not meant for comfort.

My compassion
is a cold stove.

My compassion
is a gravestone.

My compassion is a razor.
I have sharpened it for you.