Chapped lips and bleeding fingers,
I’d like to spread that redness on this
dry, flaky alligator-skin;
relief for my cracking scales.
Already, it’s winter.
We’re huddling, skulking beneath
our goose-down hoods and discrete
comforters.
In one-degree weather, we’re slipping on
treacherous black ice and
closing our eyes to the first
snowfall’s unbearable brilliance.
But I’m left drained. The scent of hot cocoa and
strains of muted folk songs
drift through the frosty air.
But I’m still left cold.
I’ll take your blood, rub it into me like
ointment.
An emollient for this
throbbing brain, stinging from
the intricacies and labyrinthine memories,
legacies from you.
Maybe then I’ll feel like you’re close to me,
all over me, just
like before.
Maybe then I’ll burst with warmth, and
maybe my heart will take wing to
some fiery paradise.
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