coldness
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Pain is like snow.
You look up—
And no matter how hard you squint,
You can't quite see where it's coming from.
From time to time it may stop,
But in reality,
It's rushing at you,
All at once.
On my own little island, there is little means of escape
I sit alone, on my nearly treeless home in the middle of a delta
My only neighbor, hardly acknowledges that I am even there
How often do you come around anymore without me requesting you?
How long will you stay before leaving abruptly once again,
because you can’t stand the warmth of a familiar touch.
