Heat, inside and out, this scalding month we must endure
before fall brings cool again, and winter offers its deep freeze, this sad
cycle of life we also must live with, bits and pieces of day to day we lose
track of as time goes by, the taste of sweetness we thought of when young,
almost – but not quite – forgotten, the people to whom we cling, and wish for,
but cannot recapture, except in dreams.
I still wake sweating, just not the kind I cherish, and
still see the face to whom I fell so strongly, even if I’ve not met her in the
flesh for some time, all the small details lost, even if still clinging to me,
and in my dreams, the heat of the day translated in the one of night, into a
passion I can no longer regain, lost but not lost, there but only in the vaguest
way, stirred up like a witch’s brew in the rem of sleep, dream up dream,
steaming me up inside, and still lingering long after I am awake.
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