Cusp

My face thaws in his bedroom
blown in beneath the front door
the momentum sent me tumbling up the stairs
hitting my nose on the cusp of each hardwood lip
frosty irises grind to a halt on his floor
the carpet sending friction-warmth into the shadows
of my cheeks
melting skin leaves me resting in a puddle
of snot and ice bits
I wait for him to crack a window,
the breeze catching my tongue like a sail.

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