It's cold inside.


Sledgehammer Saturdays–
I know better.
Ice chips
Those friendships
They meltĀ into
kitchen cracks
on the floor
What if you knew what I was made of?
Loose seams
broken dreams
Laughing into tears
that hysteria stings.
And the wicked wings of time
Keep flying over me
crawling in a dessert
Hoping cupped hands will offer affection
Or a sip of trust I have yet to taste
Let me
Glimpse into a world
Seen only
through snow globe prisons
Is that Santa Claus or a husband?
We pretend he’s coming
Snowmen rule our Florida hearts
in desperate imagination.
And the heat of your summer
is all we have to cool our longest winter days.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *