thI find myself looking at my cold hands
Unable to warm through
Destined to be dry and desiccate
Metaphor for exhaustion
When doors are not sufficient to challenge the unease of living
When it is colder inside than without
Yet retreat is the only certainty
You wound me in ways you cannot understand
Ways I didn’t think existed
They only do if you are fool enough
Long I wait measuring time in butterflies
Ravenous for nectar they summon dormant plants to sprout
Watchful for the chant of life that accompanies the sun
When you take a drive I imagine that’s what you seek too
Some reaffirmed moment
While I can no more summon faith than tan
Beneath UV
For one it beckons an end to their winter sleep
The other, she appreciates the warmth but it is
More harmful than beneficial
As you with your rough emotions
Use scythe and sledge-hammer
And then wonder
With clueless expression
Why I bleed?