Enjoy, reviews are welcome (:
I complain to my exasperated parents
every other day about the cold in
When I sit, committed, at my
desk to write my poetry,
I ache with the
Since my parents claim to have
tried countless times to rid my
quarters of their
Antarctican feel, I've learned
to just layer up.
Wear fuzzy socks and hoodies,
thirstily bringing the mug of tea to
my trembling lips.
Last night, while I lay restless on
the stained carpet of my igloo,
something odd transpired.
Over the phone, my friend's
asked, "How are you?"
Her tone was a knowing one.
In an instantaneous moment of
longing and necessity,
your name fumbled across my lips.
The rest followed.
Her indifference was evident
in the silence, but not even the
shaking of my small voice was enough
to stop me. Not even the unbearable cold was
enough to stop me from ranting, not painlessly, about you.
I miss you. I need you. I want you. Where are you? I love you.
"At least, I think I do."
That's when something unheard of occurred and
I was forced to endure an eternal pause in time.
As the words fell from my mouth, I felt an inhumane
wave of heat overcome my tense limbs and bring
approving red complexion to my perplexed face.
A sauna now, instead of the chilling freezer to which
I'd become so horribly accustomed. No shivering.
My pulse slowed to a painstaking pace, as heat
—I'd always wanted warmth, but not this burning—
increased at the same rate with which I had spoken
your name. Heat, silence, desire, and your name.
She told me it was late, that I should
really try to get a little bit of sleep.
I couldn't stop thinking of, saying, your name,
addicted to this heat, this new yet preferable discomfort.
I finally asked myself, "Cold indifference or
hot desire? Painfully hot longing?"
I took off my fuzzy socks, lifted the hoodie
over my head, and crawled sweating into bed.
I mumbled your name in my slumber, replaced
my constant complaints of too much cold.