A Plea
A Plea
Any moment stumbling past that isn't blanketed in a stifling heat
I find myself scurrying to peel back my curtains, and open my windows
Cracking the doors, begging the wind to blow through
My bones know that so much of him is out in the world
Flitting through the ether, embedded in the earth
I have nothing to lock inside my walls
Nothing to grasp onto
This wasn't where he settled, it wasn't where he lived
I open up my walls – perhaps to let some of me out
But doubtlessly as an earnest plea for a gust of him to whirl through
To ease the scorch of the heat on my skin, and expel the staleness that has suffocated my lungs