the moist air is so hot
it feels like a steam
bath
though it is still
the heat inside me
that stirs me to boil
the touch of flesh
I cannot reach to
touch
the memory of a kiss
I no longer feel
this idea of what love is
lingering in the
balmy air
I fill my lungs with it
and come near to drowning
you can almost swim in it
even when you are
way deep in quicksand
all this poignant
vapor
all this
pontification
about heartbreak
all this back and forth
about a romance t
hat never was
just a working out of details
feeling our way through
the Quagmire of Life
in search of grains
of gold
we might find in the sand
that slowly sinks us
gold nuggets or love
that only make us sink faster
when we cannot swim
I breathe in the moist air
steaming myself as from the inside
doing it all to
myself
when I ought to sit still
and wait out the
inevitable
each move I Make only
quickens it
and makes the heat inside
that much more intolerable
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