It's a hot night..

The first one for months. Spring is in full bloom, and the smell of summer is in the air.

It's the Sunday afternoon lawnmowers, the colour of mountains on a hot day.

I can barely remember the last time I sat, alone in my room, in the flickering light of candles.
Enjoying the scent of the burning wax, as it combines with the sweet smoke of incense, smoldering slowly.

It's been the longest time, since I've sat in the still air, and felt sweat, as it trickles,
beads around my neck, dampens the t-shirt against my back.

And I'm reminded of the last time I can remember sweat...

Lying in her bed, feeling her next to me.
She commented on it that night, my back clammy, the dampness no relief against the heat I felt.

It's ironic I my skin wept, in an effort to stay cool, my heart's warmth was dying.
As I lay there, I felt the lack of warmth in her touch, the distance as she turned, and faced away.
The bitter cruelty in the warmth I everything froze...and I felt as though I died.

And now, summer approaches again.
The promise of tossing and turning through baking nights, in perfectly still air, beckons again.
My window open, I can hear the sound of a world that has trouble sleeping, that never truly stops.

And the heat returns to my skin. Tiny beads of sweat gather, combine, to create the
momentum needed for them to trickle down my body.
And I realise...returning heat isn't enough to thaw what she left frozen.
I could bathe myself in an inferno, breathe the flames in deeply - and still feel this cold.

This is out of my's not for me to apply heat to the core of my heart. I can't thaw my soul.

But I know this. As I feel the moisture on my skin, I also sense droplets forming on the shell of this frozen core.

And It's with a sense of hope, that I sit in the candlelight, and realise with wonder...

Summer is coming